flRLITTE 


MARS 


ERS 


ROSE  A  CHARLITTE 


ROSE    A    CHARL1TTE    STOOD    CONFRONTING    THK 
NEWCOMER." 

(SeejagejS.) 


Copyright,  1898 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 


FIRST  EDITION,   7ULY  /,   i 
SECOND   EDITION,  JULY  jo, 


Colonial 

eiectrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.   H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  U,  S.  A. 


STACK 
ANNEX 


HeBtcatum 

I  inscribe  this  story  of  the  Acadiens  to  one 
who  was  their  warm  friend  and  helper  while 
administering  the  Public  Systems  of  Educa 
tion  in  Nova  Scotia  and  in  New  Brunswick,  to 
a  man  whose  classic  verse  is  rich  in  sugges 
tion  caught  from  the  picturesque  Evangeline 
land,  and  who  is  a  valued  and  lifelong  friend 
of  my  beloved  father,  — 


,  U.  C.  !L 

OF    McMASTER    UNIVERSITY 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK   I. 
ROSE  A   CHARLITTE. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  VESPER  L.  NIMMO  .         .         .         .         .n 

II.  A  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  DEAD           .         .       21 

III.  FROM  BOSTON  TO  ACADIE       .         .         .38 

IV.  THE  SLEEPING  WATER  INN     ...       47 
V.  AGAPIT  THE  ACADIEN     .         .         .         -67 

VI.  VESPER  SUGGESTS  AN  EXPLANATION        .       82 

VII.     A  DEADLOCK 90 

VIII.  ON  THE  SUDDEN  SOMETHING  ILL  .         .       98 

IX.  A  TALK  ON  THE  WHARF     .    .         .         .108 

X.  BACK  TO  THE  CONCESSION       .         .         .122 

XL  NEWS  OF  THE  FIERY  FRENCHMAN  .         .     138 

XII.  AN  UNHAPPY  RIVER        ....     154 

XIII.  AN  ILLUMINATION  .....     161 

XIV.  WITH  THE  OLD  ONES     ....     178 
XV.  THE  CAVE  OF  THE  BEARS        .         .         .     196 

XVI.  FOR  THE  HONOR  OF  THEIR  RACE           .     210 

XVII.  THE   SUBLIMEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD     222 

XVIII.  NARCISSE  GOES  IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  ENG 
LISHMAN       ......     236 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.     AN  INTERRUPTED  MASS  .  .         .         .251 

XX.     WITH  THE  WATERCROWS  .         .         .     262 

XXI.     A  SUPREME  ADIEU          .  .         .         .281 


BOOK  II. 
BIDIANE. 

I.     A  NEW  ARRIVAL  AT  SLEEPING  WATER  .     303 
II.     BIDIANE    GOES    TO    CALL    ON    ROSE    A 

CHARLITTE 319 

III.  TAKEN  UNAWARES  .         .         .         .         .334 

IV.  AN  UNKNOWN  IRRITANT         .         .         .     353 
V.     BIDIANE  PLAYS  AN  OVERTURE         .         .361 

VI.     A    SNAKE    IN    THE    GRASS    INTERFERES 
WITH  THE   EDUCATION  OF  MIRABELLE 

MARIE          ......  372 

VII.     GHOSTS  BY  SLEEPING  WATER  .         .         .  386 

VIII.     FAIRE  BOMBANCE     .....  404 

IX.     LOVE  AND  POLITICS         .         .         .         .419 

X.     A  CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY    .         .  434 

XI.     WHAT  ELECTION  DAY  BROUGHT  FORTH  .  45 1 

XII.     BIDIANE  FALLS  IN  A  RIVER    .         .         .  463 

XIII.  CHARLITTE  COMES  BACK         .         .         .  474 

XIV.  BIDIANE  RECEIVES  A  SHOCK  .         .         .  483 
XV.     THE  BEAUTIFUL   STRANGER  GOES  AWAY 

WITHOUT  HER  CAPTAIN        .         .         .     499 
XVI.     AN  ACADIEN  FESTIVAL    .         .         .         .506 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"  ROSE  A  CHARLITTE  STOOD  CONFRONTING  THE  NEW 
COMER  "  .  ....        Frontispiece 

"  THEY  WERE  FRIENDS  " 60 

"  '  AGAPIT,'  SHE  MURMURED,  <  CAN  WE  NOT  TELL  HIM  ? ' "     229 

'"MADEMOISELLE,    I    SALUTE    YOUR    RETURN'"     .  -311 

"  '  EITHER  THAT  MAN  OR  I  MUST  LEAVE  THIS  HOUSE  '  "     409 
"  THROWING   HER   ARM   AROUND   THE   NECK   OF  HER 

RECOVERED  CHILD" 5! 3 


ROSE  A  CHARLITTE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

VESPER     L.     NIMMO. 

"  Hast  committed  a  crime,  and  think'st  thou  to  escape? 
Alas,  my  father  !  "  —  Old  Play. 

"  EVIL  deeds  do  not  die,"  and  the  handsome  young 
man  stretched  out  in  an  easy  chair  by  the  fire  raised 
his  curly  black  head  and  gazed  into  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  comfortably  furnished  room  as  if  chal 
lenging  a  denial  of  this  statement. 

No  one  contradicted  him,  for  he  was  alone,  and 
with  a  slightly  satirical  smile  he  went  on.  "  One 
fellow  sows  the  seeds,  and  another  has  to  reap  them 
—  no,  you  don't  reap  seeds,  you  reap  what  springs 
up.  Deadly  plants,  we  will  say,  nightshades  and  that 
sort  of  thing ;  and  the  surprised  and  inoffensive  de 
scendants  of  sinful  sires  have  to  drop  their  ordinary 
occupations  and  seize  reaping-hooks  to  clean  out 
these  things  that  shoot  up  in  their  paths.  Here  am 


12  KOSE   A    CHARL1TTE. 

I,  for  example,  a  comparatively  harmless  product  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  confronted  with  a  upas-tree 
planted  by  my  great-grandfather  of  the  eighteenth,  — 
just  one  hundred  and  forty  years  ago.  It  was  cer 
tainly  very  heedless  in  the  old  boy,"  and  he  smiled 
again  and  stared  indolently  at  the  leaping  flames  in 
the  grate. 

The  fire  was  of  wood,  —  sections  of  young  trees 
cut  small  and  laid  crosswise,  —  and  from  their  slender 
stems  escaping  gases  choked  and  sputtered  angrily. 

"  I  am  burning  miniature  trees,"  drawled  the  young 
man  ;  "  by  the  way,  they  seem  to  be  assisting  in  my 
soliloquy.  Perhaps  they  know  this  little  secret,"  and 
with  sudden  animation  he  put  out  his  hand  and  rang 
the  bell  beside  him. 

A  colored  boy  appeared.  "  Henry,"  said  the 
young  man,  "  where  did  you  get  this  wood  ?  " 

"  I  got  it  out  of  a  schooner,  sir,  down  on  one  of 
the  wharves." 

"What  port  did  the  schooner  hail  from  ?" 

"  From  Novy  Scoshy,  sir." 

"  Were  the  crew  Acadiens  ?  " 

"  What,  sir  ?  " 

"  Were  there  any  French  sailors  on  her  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  guess  so.  I  heard  'em  jabbering  some 
queer  kind  of  talk." 

"  Listen  to  the  wood  in  that  fire,  —  what  does  it 
say  to  you  ? " 


VESPER   L.   NIMMO.  13 

Henry  grinned  broadly.  "  It  sounds  like  as  if  it 
was  laughing  at  me,  sir." 

"  You  think  so  ?     That  will  do." 

The  boy  closed  the  door  softly  and  went  away,  and 
the  young  man  murmured,  "Just  what  I  thought. 
They  do  know.  Now,  Acadien  treelets,  gasping  your 
last  to  throw  a  gleam  of  brightness  into  my  lazy  life, 
tell  me,  is  anything  worth  while  ?  If  there  had 
been  a  curse  laid  on  your  ancestors  in  the  forest, 
would  you  devote  your  last  five  minutes  to  lifting 
it?" 

The  angry  gasping  and  sobbing  in  the  fire  had 
died  away.  Two  of  the  topmost  billets  of  wood 
rolled  gently  over  and  emitted  a  soft  muttering. 

"  You  would,  eh  ?  "  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
sweet,  subtle  smile.  "  You  would  spend  your  last 
breath  for  the  good  of  your  race.  You  have  left 
some  saplings  behind  you  in  the  forest.  You  hope 
that  they  will  be  happy,  and  should  I,  a  human 
being,  be  less  disinterested  than  you?" 

''Vesper,"  said  a  sudden  voice,  from  the  doorway, 
"  are  you  talking  to  yourself  ?  " 

The  young  man  deliberately  turned  his  head.  The 
better  to  observe  the  action  of  the  sticks  of  wood, 
and  to  catch  their  last  dying  murmurs,  he  had  leaned 
forward,  and  sat  with  his  hands  on  his  knees.  Now 
he  got  up,  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire  for  his  mother, 
then  sank  back  into  his  own. 


14  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  talking  to  yourself," 
she  went  on,  in  a  querulous,  birdlike  voice,  "  it  seems 
like  the  habit  of  an  old  man  or  a  crazy  person." 

"  One  likes  sometimes  to  have  a  little  confidential 
conversation,  my  mother." 

"  You  always  were  secretive  and  unlike  other 
people,"  she  said,  in  acute  maternal  satisfaction  and 
appreciation.  "  Of  all  the  boys  on  the  hill  there  was 
none  as  clever  as  you  in  keeping  his  own  counsel." 

"  So  you  think,  but  remember  that  I  happened  to 
be  your  son,"  he  said,  protestingly. 

"  Others  have  remarked  it.  Even  your  teachers 
said  they  could  never  make  you  out,"  and  her  caress 
ing  glance  swept  tenderly  over  his  dark  curly  head, 
his  pallid  face,  and  slender  figure. 

His  satirical  yet  affectionate  eyes  met  hers,  then 
he  looked  at  the  fire.  "  Mother,  it  is  getting  hot  in 
Boston." 

"Hot,  Vesper?"  and  she  stretched  out  one  little 
white  hand  towards  the  fireplace. 

"  This  is  an  exceptional  day.  The  wind  is  east 
erly  and  raw,  and  it  is  raining.  Remember  what 
perfect  weather  we  have  had.  It  is  the  first  of 
June ;  it  ought  to  be  getting  warm." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  leave  Boston  until  the  last  of 
the  month,"  said  the  little  lady,  decidedly,  "  unless, 
—  unless,"  and  she  wistfully  surveyed  him,  "it  is  bet 
ter  for  your  health  to  go  away." 


VESPER   L.  NIMMO.  15 

"  Suppose,  before  we  go  to  the  White  Mountains,  I 
take  a  trial  trip  by  myself,  just  to  see  if  I  can  get  on 
without  coddling  ? " 

"  I  could  not  think  of  allowing  you  to  go  away 
alone,"  she  said,  with  a  shake  of  her  white  head. 
"  It  would  seriously  endanger  your  health." 

"  I  should  like  to  go,"  he  said,  shortly.  "  I  am 
better  now." 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  her,  and,  after 
a  brief  struggle  with  herself,  during  which  she 
clasped  her  hands  painfully  on  her  lap,  the  little 
lady  yielded  with  a  good  grace.  "  Where  do  you 
wish  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  decided.  Do  you  know  anything 
about  Nova  Scotia  ?  " 

"  I  know  where  it  is,  on  the  map,"  she  said,  doubt 
fully.  "  I  once  had  a  housemaid  from  there.  She 
was  a  very  good  girl." 

"  Perhaps  I  will  take  a  run  over  there." 

"  I  have  never  been  to  Nova  Scotia,"  she  said, 
gently. 

"  If  it  is  anything  of  a  place,  I  will  take  you  some 
other  time.  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  hotels 
now." 

"But  you,  Vesper,"  she  said,  anxiously,  "you  will 
suffer  more  than  I  would." 

"  Then  I  shall  not  stay." 

"  How  long  will  you  be  gone  ? ' 


1 6  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  I  do  not  know,  —  mother,  your  expression  is  that 
of  a  concerned  hen  whose  chicken  is  about  to  have 
its  first  run.  I  have  been  away  from  you  before." 

"Not  since  you  have  been  ill  so  much,"  and  she 
sighed,  heavily.  "  Vesper,  I  wish  you  had  a  wife  to 
go  with  you." 

"  Really,  —  another  woman  to  run  after  me  with 
pill-boxes  and  medicine-bottles.  No,  thank  you." 

Her  face  cleared.  She  did  not  wish  him  to  get 
married,  and  he  knew  it.  Slightly  moving  his  dark 
head  back  and  forth  against  the  cushions  of  his 
chair,  he  averted  his  eyes  from  the  widow's  gar 
ments  that  she  wore.  He  never  looked  at  them 
without  feeling  a  shock  of  sympathy  for  her,  although 
her  loss  in  parting  from  a  kind  and  tender  husband 
had  not  been  equal  to  his  in  losing  a  father  who  had 
been  an  almost  perfect  being  to  him.  His  mother 
still  had  him,  —  the  son  who  was  the  light  of  her 
frail  little  life,  —  and  he  had  her,  and  he  loved  her 
with  a  kind,  indulgent,  filial  affection,  and  with  sym 
pathy  for  her  many  frailties  ;  but,  when  his  heart 
cried  out  for  his  departed  father,  he  quietly  absented 
himself  from  her.  And  that  father — that  good, 
honorable,  level-headed  man  —  had  ended  his  life  by 
committing  suicide.  He  had  never  understood  it. 
It  was  a  most  bitter  and  stinging  mystery  to  him 
even  now,  and  he  glanced  at  the  box  of  dusty,  faded 
letters  on  the  floor  beside  him. 


VESPER   L.   NIMMO.  IJ 

"Vesper,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  "do  you  find  any 
thing  interesting  among  those  letters  of  your 
father  ? " 

"  Not  my  father's.  There  is  not  one  of  his  among 
them.  Indeed,  I  think  he  never  could  have  opened 
this  box.  Did  you  ever  know  of  his  doing  so  ? " 

"  I  cannot  tell.  They  have  been  up  in  the  attic 
ever  since  I  was  married.  He  examined  some  of 
the  boxes,  then  he  asked  you  to  do  it.  He  was 
always  busy,  too  busy.  He  worked  himself  to 
death,"  and  a  tear  fell  on  her  black  dress. 

"  I  wish  now  that  I  had  done  as  he  requested," 
said  the  young  man,  gravely.  "  There  are  some 
questions  that  I  should  have  asked  him.  Do  you 
remember  ever  hearing  him  say  anything  about  the 
death  of  my  great-grandfather  ?" 

She  reflected  a  minute.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  I 
have.  He  was  the  first  of  your  father's  family  to 
come  to  this,  country.  There  is  a  faint  recollection 
in  my  mind  of  having  heard  that  he  —  well,  he  died 
in  some  sudden  way,"  and  she  stopped  in  confusion. 

"  It  comes  back  to  me  now,"  said  Vesper.  "  Was 
he  not  the  old  man  who  got  out  of  bed,  when  his 
nurse  was  in  the  next  room,  and  put  a  pistol  to 
his  head  ? " 

"  I  daresay,"  said  his  mother,  slowly.  "  Of  course 
it  was  temporary  insanity." 

"  Of  course." 


1 8  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  she  went  on,  curiously. 
"  Do  you  find  his  name  among  the  old  documents  ?  " 

Vesper  understood  her  better  than  to  make  too 
great  a  mystery  of  a  thing  that  he  wished  to  con 
ceal.  "Yes,  there  is  a  letter  from  him." 

"  I  should  like  to  read  it,"  she  said,  fussily  fum 
bling  at  her  waist  for  her  spectacle-case. 

Vesper  indifferently  turned  his  head  towards  her. 
"  It  is  very  long." 

Her  enthusiasm  died  away,  and  she  sank  back  in 
her  rocking-chair. 

"  My  great-grandfather  shot  himself,  and  my 
grandfather  was  lost  at  sea,"  pursued  the  young 
man,  dreamily. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  reluctantly  ;  then  she  added,  "  my 
people  all  die  in  bed." 

"  His  ship  caught  on  fire." 

She  shuddered.     "Yes;  no  one  escaped." 

"  All  burnt  up,  probably ;  and  if  they  took  to 
their  boats  they  must  have  died  of  starvation,  for 
they  were  never  heard  of." 

They  were  both  silent,  and  the  same  thought  was 
in  their  minds.  Was  this  very  cool  and  calm  young 
man,  sitting  staring  into  the  fire,  to  end  his  days  in 
the  violent  manner  peculiar  to  the  rugged  members 
of  his  father's  family,  or  was  he  to  die  according  to 
the  sober  and  methodical  rule  of  the  peaceful  mem 
bers  of  his  mother's  house  ? 


VESTER    L.   NIMMO.  IQ 

Out  of  the  depths  of  a  quick  maternal  agony  she 
exclaimed,  "  You  are  more  like  me  than  your  father." 

Her  son  gave  her  an  assenting  and  affectionate 
glance,  though  he  knew  that  she  knew  he  was  not  at 
all  like  her.  He  even  began  to  fancy,  in  a  curious 
introspective  fashion,  whether  he  should  have  cared 
at  all  for  this  little  white-haired  lady  if  he  had  hap 
pened  to  have  had  another  woman  for  a  mother. 
The  thought  amused  him,  then  he  felt  rebuked,  and, 
leaning  over,  he  took  one  of  the  white  hands  on  her 
lap  and  kissed  it  gently. 

"  We  should  really  investigate  our  family  histories 
in  this  country  more  than  we  do,"  he  said.  "  I  wish 
that  I  had  questioned  my  father  about  his  ancestors. 
I  know  almost  nothing  of  them.  Mother,"  he  went 
on,  presently,  "  have  you  ever  heard  of  the  expulsion 
of  the  Acadiens  ? "  and  bending  over  the  sticks  of 
wood  neatly  laid  beside  him,  he  picked  up  one  and 
gazed  at  a  little  excrescence  in  the  bark  which  bore 
some  resemblance  to  a  human  face. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  with  gentle  rebuke,  "do 
you  not  remember  that  I  used  to  know  Mr.  Long 
fellow  ? " 

Vesper  slowly,  and  almost  caressingly,  submitted 
the  stick  of  wood  to  the  leaping  embrace  of  the 
flames  that  rose  up  to  catch  it.  "  What  is  your  opin 
ion  of  his  poem  '  Evangeline  ? ' ' 

"It   was  a  pretty  thing,  —  very  pretty  and  very 


2O  XOS£   A    CHARLITTE. 

sad.  I  remember  crying  over  it  when  it  came 
out." 

"  You  never  heard  that  our  family  had  any  con 
nection  with  the  expulsion  ?  " 

"  No,  Vesper,  we  are  not  French." 

"  No,  we  certainly  are  not,"  and  he  relapsed  into 
silence. 

"  I  think  I  will  run  over  to  Nova  Scotia,  next 
week,"  he  said,  when  she  presently  got  up  to  leave 
the  room.  "  Will  you  let  Henry  find  out  about 
steamers  and  trains  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  think  you  must  go,"  she  said,  wist 
fully.  "  I  daresay  the  steamer  would  be  easier  for 
you." 

"  The  steamer  then  let  it  be." 

"  And  if  you  must  go  I  will  have  to  look  over  your 
clothes.  It  will  be  cool  there,  like  Maine,  I  fancy. 
You  must  take  warm  things,"  and  she  glided  from 
the  room. 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  bother  about  them,"  he 
said;  "they  are  all  right."  But  she  did  not  hear 
him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    MESSAGE    FROM    THE    DEAD. 

"  The  glossing  words  of  reason  and  of  song, 
To  tell  of  hate  and  virtue  to  defend, 
May  never  set  the  bitter  deed  aright, 

Nor  satisfy  the  ages  with  the  wrong." 

J.  F.  HEREIN. 

"  Now  let  me  read  this  effusion  of  my  thoughtless 
grandparent  once  more,"  said  Vesper,  and  he  took 
the  top  paper  from  the  box  and  ran  over  its  contents 
in  a  murmuring  voice. 

I,  John  Matthew  Nimmo,  a  Scotchman,  born  in  Glasgow,  at 
present  a  dying  man,  in  the  town  of  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  leave 
this  last  message  for  my  son  Thomas  Nimmo,  now  voyaging 
on  the  high  seas. 

My  son  Thomas,  by  the  will  of  God,  you,  my  only  child,  are 
abroad  at  this  time  of  great  disease  and  distress  with  me.  My 
eyes  will  be  closed  in  death  ere  you  return,  and  I  am  forced  to 
commit  to  paper  the  words  I  would  fain  have  spoken  with  liv 
ing  voice  to  you. 

You,  my  son,  have  known  me  as  a  hard  and  stern  man.  By 
the  grace  of  God  my  heart  is  now  humbled  and  like  that  of  a 
little  child.  My  son,  my  son,  by  the  infinite  mercies  of  our 
Saviour,  let  me  supplicate  you  not  to  leave  repentance  to  a 

21 


22  KOSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

dying  bed.  On  the  first  day  of  the  last  week,  I,  being  stricken 
down  with  paralysis,  lay  here  on  my  couch.  The  room  was 
quiet;  I  was  alone.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  great  noise,  and  the 
weeping  and  wailing  of  women  and  children,  and  the  groans  of 
men.  Then  a  heavy  bell  began  to  toll,  and  a  light  as  of  a 
bright  fire  sprang  up  against  my  wall. 

I  entered  into  a  great  swoon,  in  which  I  seemed  to  be  a 
young  man  again,  —  a  stout  and  hearty  man,  a  high  liver,  a 
proud  swearer.  1  had  on  my  uniform ;  there  was  a  sword  in 
my  hand.  I  trod  the  deck  of  my  stout  ship,  the  Confidence.  I 
heard  the  plash  of  waves  against  the  sides,  and  I  lifted  my 
haughty  eyes  to  heaven ;  I  was  afraid  of  none,  no  not  the 
ruler  of  the  universe. 

Down  under  the  planks  that  my  foot  pressed  were  prisoners, 
to  wit,  the  Acadiens,  that  we  were  carrying  to  the  port  of  Bos 
ton.  What  mattered  their  sufferings  to  me?  I  did  not  think 
of  them.  I  called  for  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  looked  again  over 
the  sea,  and  wished  for  a  fair  wind  so  that  we  might  the  sooner 
enter  our  prisoners  at  the  port  of  Boston,  and  make  merry  with 
our  friends. 

My  son,  as  I,  in  my  swoon,  contemplated  my  former  self,  it 
is  not  in  the  power  of  mortal  man  to  convey  to  you  my  awful 
scorn  of  what  I  then  was,  —  my  gross  desires,  my  carnal  wishes. 
I  was  no  better  than  the  beasts  of  the  fields. 

After  a  time,  as  1  trod  the  deck,  a  young  Acadien  was 
brought  before  me.  My  officers  said  that  he  had  been  en 
deavouring  to  stir  up  a  mutiny  among  the  prisoners,  and  had 
urged  them  to  make  themselves  masters  of  the  ship  and  to  cast 
us  into  the  sea. 

I  called  him  a  Papist  dog.  I  asked  him  whether  he  wished 
to  be  thrown  to  the  fishes.  I  could  speak  no  French,  but  he 
knew  somewhat  of  English,  and  he  answered  me  proudly.  He 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  smoking  village  of  Grand  Pre 


A    MESSAGE   FROM   THE   DEAD.  2$ 

that  we  were  leaving.  He  called  to  heaven  for  a  judgment  to 
be  sent  down  on  the  English  for  their  cruelty. 

I  struck  him  to  the  deck.  He  could  not  rise.  I  thought  he 
would  not ;  but  in  a  brief  space  of  time  he  was  dead,  the  last 
words  on  his  lips  a  curse  on  me  and  my  children,  and  a  wish 
that  in  our  dying  moments  we  might  suffer  some  of  the  tor 
ments  he  was  then  enduring.  I  had  his  body  rolled  into  the 
sea,  and  I  forgot  him,  my  son.  In  the  unrighteous  work  to 
which  I  had  put  my  hand  in  the  persecution  of  the  French,  a 
death  more  or  less  was  a  circumstance  to  be  forgotten. 

I  was  then  a  young  man,  and  in  all  the  years  that  have  inter 
vened  I  have  been  oblivious  of  him.  The  hand  of  the  Lord  has 
been  laid  upon  me ;  I  have  been  despoiled  of  my  goods ; 
nothing  that  I  have  done  has  prospered  ;  and  yet  I  give  you  my 
solemn  word  I  never,  until  now,  in  these  days  of  dying,  have 
reflected  that  a  curse  has  been  upon  me  and  will  descend  to 
you,  my  son,  and  to  your  sons  after  you. 

Therefore,  I  leave  this  solemn  request.  Methinks  I  shall 
not  lie  easy  in  my '  narrow  bed  until  that  some  of  my 
descendants  have  made  restitution  to  the  seed  of  the  French 
man.  I  bethink  me  that  he  was  one  Le  Noir,  called  the  Fiery 
Frenchman  of  Grand  Pre",  from  a  birthmark  on  his  face,  but  of 
his  baptismal  name  I  am  ignorant.  That  he  was  a  married  man 
I  well  know,  for  one  cause  of  his  complaint  was  that  he  had 
been  separated  from  his  wife  and  child,  which  thing  was  not 
of  my  doing,  but  by  the  orders  of  Governor  Lawrence,  who  com 
manded  the  men  and  the  women  to  be  embarked  apart.  But 
seek  them  not  in  the  city  of  Boston,  my  son,  nor  in  that  of 
Philadelphia,  where  his  young  wife  was  carried,  but  come  back 
to  this  old  Acadien  land,  whither  the  refugees  are  now  tending. 
Ah  me !  it  seems  that  I  am  yet  a  young  man,  that  he  is  still 
alive,  —  the  man  whom  I  killed.  Alas  !  I  am  old  and  about  to 
die,  but,  my  son,  by  the  love  and  compassion  of  God,  let  me 


24  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

entreat  you  to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  your  father.  Seek  the 
family  of  the  Frenchman ;  make  restitution,  even  to  the  half 
of  your  goods,  or  you  will  have  no  prosperity  in  this  world  nor 
any  happiness  in  the  world  to  come.  If  you  are  unable  to 
carry  out  this,  my  last  wish,  let  this  letter  be  handed  to  your 
children.  Eschew  riotous  living,  and  fold  in  your  heart  my 
saying,  that  the  forcible  dispossession  of  the  Acadien  people 
from  their  land  and  properties  was  an  unrighteous  and  un 
holy  act,  brought  about  chiefly  by  the  lust  of  hatred  and 
greed  on  the  part  of  that  iniquitous  man,  Governor  Lawrence, 
of  this  province,  and  his  counsellors. 

May  God  have  mercy  on  my  soul.  Your  father,  soon  to  be 
a  clod  of  clay, 

JOHN  MATTHEW  NIMMO. 

HALIFAX,  May  9,  1800. 

With  a  slight  shudder  Vesper  dropped  the  letter 
back  in  the  box  and  wiped  the  dust  from  his  fingers. 
"  Unhappy  old  man,  —  there  is  not  the  slightest  evi 
dence  that  his  callous  son  Thomas  paid  any  heed  to 
his  exhortations.  I  can  imagine  the  contempt  with 
which  he  would  throw  this  letter  aside ;  he  would 
probably  remark  that  his  father  had  lost  his  mind. 
And  yet  was  it  a  superstition  about  altering  the  for 
tunes  of  the  family  that  made  him  shortly  after  ex 
change  his  father's  grant  of  land  in  Nova  Scotia  for 
one  in  this  State  ? "  and  he  picked  up  another 
faded  document,  this  one  of  parchment  and  contain 
ing  a  record  of  the  transfer  of  certain  estates  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  town  of  Boston  to  Thomas  Nimmo, 


A    MESSAGE   FROM    THE   DEAD.  2$ 

removing  from  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  to  the  State  of 
Massachusetts. 

"Then  Thomas  got  burnt  for  despising  the  com 
mands  of  his  father ;  but  my  poor  sire,  —  where 
does  his  guilt  come  in  ?  He  did  not  know  of  the 
existence  of  this  letter,  —  that  I  could  swear,  for 
with  his  kind  heart  and  streak  of  romance  he  would 
have  looked  up  this  Acadien  ghost  and  laid  it.  If  I 
were  also  romantic,  I  should  say  it  killed  him.  As 
it  is,  I  shall  stick  to  my  present  opinion  that  he  killed 
himself  by  overwork. 

"  Now,  shall  I  be  cynical  and  let  this  thing  go,  or 
shall  I,  like  a  knight  of  the  Middle  Ages,  or  an  ad 
venturous  fool  of  the  present,  set  out  in  quest  of  the 
seed  of  the  Fiery  Frenchman  ?  del !  I  have  already 
decided.  It  is  a  floating  feather  to  pursue,  an  occu 
pation  just  serious  enough  for  my  convalescent  state. 
En  route,  then,  for  Acadie,"  and  he  closed  his  eyes 
and  sank  into  a  reverie,  which  was,  after  the  lapse  of 
an  hour,  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  colored 
boy  with  a  handful  of  papers. 

"  Good  boy,  Henry,"  said  his  master,  approvingly. 

"  Mis'  Nimmo,  she  tole  me  to  hurry,"  said  the 
boy,  with  a  flash  of  his  resplendent  ivories,  "  'cause 
she  never  like  you  to  wait  for  nothing.  So  I  jus'  run 
down  to  Washington  Street." 

Vesper  smiled,  and  took  up  one  of  the  folders. 
"  H'm,  Evangeline  route.  The  Nova  Scotians  are 


26  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

smart  enough  to  make  capital  out  of  the  poem  — 
Henry,  come  rub  my  left  ankle,  there  is  some  rheu 
matism  in  it.  What  is  this  ?  '  The  Dominion  Atlan 
tic  Railway  have  now  completed  their  magnificent 
system  to  the  Hub  of  the  Universe  by  placing  on  the 
route  between  it  and  Nova  Scotia  a  steamship  named 
after  one  of  the  heirs-presumptive  of  the  British 
throne.'  Henry,  where  is  the  Hub  of  the  Uni 
verse  ? " 

Henry  looked  up  from  the  hearth-rug.  "  I  dunno, 
sir  ;  ain't  it  heaven  ?  "  . 

"  It  ought  to  be,"  said  the  young  man  ;  and  he 
went  on,  " '  This  steamship  is  a  dream  of  beauty, 
with  the  lines  of  an  exquisite  yacht.  Her  appoint 
ments  are  as  perfect  as  taste  and  science  can  sug 
gest,  in  music-room,  dining-room,  smoking-room, 
parlor,  staterooms,  bathrooms,  and  all  other  apart 
ments.  The  cabinet  work  is  in  solid  walnut  and  oak, 
the  softened  light  falling  through  domes  and  panels 
of  stained  glass,  the  upholstery  is  in  figured  and 
other  velvets,  the  tapestries  are  of  silk.  There  is  a 
perfect  cuisine,  and  a  union  of  comfort  and  luxury 
throughout.' ' 

The  young  man  laid  down  the  folder.  "  How 
would  you  like  to  go  to  sea  in  that  royal  craft, 
Henry  ? " 

"  It  sounds  fine,"  said  the  boy,  smacking  his  lips. 

"  No  mention  is  made  of  seasickness,  nor  of  going 


A    MESSAGE   FROM    THE   DEAD.  2? 

to  the  bottom.  A  pity  it  would  be  to  waste  all  that 
finery  on  the  fishes  —  don't  rub  quite  so  hard.  Let 
me  see,"  and  he  took  up  the  folder  again.  "What 
days  does  she  leave  ?  Go  to-morrow  to  the  office, 
Henry,  and  engage  the  most  comfortable  stateroom 
on  this  bit  of  magnificence  for  next  Thursday." 


CHAPTER  III. 

FROM    BOSTON    TO    ACADIE. 

"  For  this  is  in  the  land  of  Acadie, 
The  fairest  place  of  all  the  earth  and  sea." 

j.  F.  H. 

IT  is  always  amusing  to  be  among  a  crowd  of  peo 
ple  on  the  Lewis  Wharf,  in  Boston,  when  a  steamer  is 
about  to  leave  for  the  neighboring  province  of  Nova 
Scotia.  The  provincials  are  so  slow,  so  deliberate, 
so  determined  not  to  be  hurried.  The  Americans 
are  so  brisk,  so  expeditious,  so  bewildering  in  the 
multitude  of  things  they  will  accomplish  in  the  brief 
est  possible  space  of  time.  They  surround  the 
provincials,  they  attempt  to  hurry  them,  to  infuse  a 
little  more  life  into  their  exercises  of  volition,  to  con 
vince  them  that  a  busy  wharf  is  not  the  place  to 
weigh  arguments  for  or  against  a  proposed  course  of 
action,  yet  the  provincials  will  not  be  hurried  ;  they 
stop  to  plan,  consider,  deliberate,  and  decide,  and  in 
the  end  they  arrive  at  satisfactory  conclusions  with 
out  one  hundredth  part  of  the  worry  and  vexation  of 
soul  which  shortens  the  lives  of  their  more  nervous 
cousins,  the  Americans. 

28 


FROM  BOSTON   TO  AC  A  DIE.  29 

At  noon,  on  the  Thursday  following  his  decision 
to  go  to  Nova  Scotia,  Vesper  Nimmo  stood  on  the 
deck  of  the  Royal  Edward,  a  smile  on  his  handsome 
face,  —  a  shrewd  smile,  that  deepened  and  broadened 
whenever  he  looked  towards  the  place  where  stood 
his  mother,  with  a  fluffy  white  shawl  wrapped  around 
her  throat,  and  the  faithful  Henry  for  a  body 
guard. 

Express  wagons,  piled  high  with  towers  of  Babel 
in  the  shape  of  trunks  that  shook  and  quivered  and 
threatened  to  fall  on  unsuspecting  .heads,  rattled 
down  and  discharged  their  contents  on  the  already 
congested  wharf,  where  intending  passengers,  es 
corting  friends,  custom  officials,  and  wharf  men  were 
talking,  gesticulating,  admonishing,  and  escaping 
death  in  varied  forms,  such  as  by  crushing,  falling, 
squeezing,  deaths  by  exhaustion,  by  kicks  from  ner 
vous  horse  legs,  or  by  fright  from  being  swept  into 
the  convenient  black  pool  of  the  harbor. 

However,  scorning  the  danger,  the  crowd  talked 
and  jabbered  on,  until,  finally,  the  last  bit  of  freight, 
the  last  bit  of  luggage,  was  on  board.  A  signal  was 
given,  the  ambulance  drew  back, — the  dark  and 
mournful  wagon  from  which,  alas,  at  nearly  every 
steamer's  trip,  a  long,  light  box  is  taken,  in  which  one 
Canadian  is  going  home  quite  still  and  mute. 

A  swarm  of  stewards  from  the  steamer  descended 
upon  their  quarry,  the  passengers,  and  a  separation 


3O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

was  made  between  the  sheep  and  the  foolish  goats, 
in  the  company's  eyes,  who  would  not  be  persuaded 
to  seek  the  fair  Canadian  pastures.  Carefully  the 
stewards  herded  and  guarded  their  giddy  sheep  to 
the  steamer,  often  turning  back  to  recover  one  skip 
ping  behind  for  a  last  parley  with  the  goats.  At 
last  they  were  all  up  the  gangway,  the  gorgeous 
ship  swung  her  princely  nose  to  the  stream,  and 
Vesper  Nimmo  felt  himself  really  off  for  Nova 
Scotia. 

He  waved  -an  adieu  to  his  mother,  then  drew 
back  to  avoid  an  onset  of  stolid,  red-cheeked  Cana 
dian  sheep  and  lambs,  who  pressed  towards  the  rail 
ing,  some  with  damp  handkerchiefs  at  their  eyes, 
others  cheerfully  exhorting  the  goats  to  write  soon. 

His  eye  fell  on  a  delicate  slip  of  a  girl,  with  con 
sumption  written  all  over  her  shaking  form  ;  and, 
swinging  on  his  heel,  he  went  to  stroll  about  the 
decks,  and  watch,  with  proud  and  passionate  con 
cealed  emotion,  the  yellow  receding  dome  of  the 
State  House.  He  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
shadow  of  that  aegis.  It  was  almost  as  sacred  to 
him  as  the  blue  sky  above,  and  not  until  he  could 
no  longer  see  it  did  he  allow  his  eyes  to  wander 
over  other  points  of  interest  of  the  historic  harbor. 
How  many  times  his  sturdy  New  England  fore 
fathers  had  dropped  their  hoes  to  man  the  ships 
that  sailed  over  these  blue  waters,  to  hew  down 


FROM  BOSTON    TO   ACADIE.  3  I 

the  Agag  of  Acadie !     What  a  bloodthirsty  set  they 
were  in  those  days  !      Indians,   English,   French,  — 
how  they  harried,  and  worried,  and  bit,  and  tore  at 
each  other ! 

He  thoughtfully  smoothed  the  little  silky  mus 
tache  that  adorned  his  upper  lip,  and  murmured, 
"Thank  heaven,  I  go  on  a  more  peaceful  errand." 

Once  out  of  the  harbor,  and  feeling  the  white 
deck  beneath  his  feet  gracefully  dipping  to  meet 
the  swell  of  the  ocean,  he  found  a  seat  and  drew 
a  guide-book  from  his  pocket.  Of  ancient  Acadie 
he  knew  something,  but  of  this  modern  Acadie  he 
had,  strange  to  say,  felt  no  curiosity,  although  it  lay 
at  his  very  doors,  until  he  had  discovered  the  letter 
of  his  great-grandfather. 

The  day  was  warm  and  sunshiny.  It  was  the 
third  of  June,  and  for  some  time  he  sat  quietly 
reading  and  bathed  in  golden  light.  Then  across 
his  calm,  peaceful  state  of  content,  stole  a  feeling 
scarcely  to  be  described,  and  so  faint  that  it  was 
barely  perceptible.  He  was  not  quite  happy.  The 
balm  had  gone  from  the  air ;  the  spirit  of  the  writer, 
who  so  eloquently  described  the  lure  of  the  Acadien 
land,  no  longer  communed  with  his.  He  read  on, 
knowing  what  was  coming,  yet  resolved  not  to  yield 
until  he  was  absolutely  forced  to  do  so. 

In  half  an  hour  he  had  flung  down  his  book,  and 
was  in  his  stateroom,  face  downward,  his  window 


32  ROSE   A    CHAXLITTE. 

wide  open,  his  body  gently  swaying  to  and  fro  with 
the  motion  of  the  steamer,  the  salt  air  deliciously 
lapping  his  ears,  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  his  hands, 
but  unable  to  get  at  his  face,  obstinately  buried  in 
the  pillow. 

"Sick,  sir?"  inquired  a  brisk  voice,  with  a  deli 
cate  note  of  suggestion. 

Vesper  uncovered  one  eye,  and  growled,  "  No,  — 
shut  that  door." 

The  steward  disappeared,  and  did  not  return  for 
some  hours,  while  Vesper's  whole  sensitive  system 
passed  into  a  painless  agony,  the  only  movement  he 
made  being  to  turn  himself  over  on  his  back,  where 
he  lay,  apparently  calm  and  happy,  and  serenely 
staring  at  the  white  ceiling  of  his  dainty  cell. 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  sir?"  asked  the 
steward's  voice  once  more. 

Vesper,  who  would  not  have  spoken  if  he  had 
been  offered  the  Royal  Edward  full  of  gold  pieces, 
did  not  even  roll  an  eyeball  at  him,  but  kept  on 
gravely  staring  upward. 

"  Your  collar's  choking  you,  sir,"  said  the  man, 
coming  forward  ;  and  he  deftly  slipped  a  stud  from 
its  place  and  laid  it  on  the  washstand.  "  Shall  I 
take  off  your  boots  ?  " 

Vesper  submitted  to  having  his  boots  withdrawn, 
and  his  feet  covered,  with  as  much  indifference  as  if 
they  belonged  to  some  other  man,  and  continued  to 


FROM  BOSTON   TO    ACADIE.  33 

spend  the  rest  of  the  day  and  the  night  in  the  same 
state  of  passivity.  Towards  morning  he  had  a  vague 
wish  to  know  the  time,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  him, 
any  more  than  it  would  have  occurred  to  a  stone 
image,  to  put  up  his  hand  to  the  watch  in  his  breast 
pocket. 

Daylight  came,  then  sunlight  streaming  into  his 
room,  and  cheery  sounds  of  voices  without,  but  he 
did  not  stir.  Not  until  the  thrill  of  contact  with  the 
land  went  through  the  steamer  did  he  spring  to  his 
feet,  like  a  man  restored  to  consciousness  by  galvanic 
action.  He  was  the  first  passenger  to  reach  the 
wharf,  and  the  steward,  who  watched  him  going, 
remarked  sarcastically  that  he  was  glad  to  see  "  that 
'ere  dead  man  come  to  life." 

Vesper  was  himself  again  when  his  feet  touched 
the  shore.  He  looked  about  him,  saw  the  bright 
little  town  of  Yarmouth,  black  rocks,  a  blue  harbor, 
and  a  glorious  sky.  His  contemplation  of  the  land 
scape  over,  he  reflected  that  he  was  faint  from  hun 
ger.  He  turned  his  back  on  the  steamer,  where  his 
fellow  passengers  had  recently  breakfasted  at  fine 
tables  spread  under  a  ceiling  of  milky  white  and 
gold,  and  hurried  to  a  modest  eating-house  near  by 
from  which  a  savory  smell  of  broiled  steak  and  fried 
potatoes  floated  out  on  the  morning  air. 

He  entered  it,  and  after  a  hasty  wash  and  brush- 
up  ate  his  breakfast  with  frantic  appetite.  He  now 


34  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

felt  that  he  had  received  a  new  lease  of  life,  and  but 
toning  his  collar  up  around  his  neck,  for  the  temper 
ature  was  some  degrees  lower  than  that  of  his  native 
city,  he  hurried  back  to  the  wharf,  where  the  passen 
gers  and  the  customs  men  were  quarrelling  as  if  they 
had  been  enemies  for  life. 

With  ingratiating  and  politic  calmness  he  pointed 
out  his  trunk  and  bicycle,  assured  the  suspicious 
official  that  although  he  was  an  American  he  was 
honest  and  had  nothing  to  sell  and  nothing  dutiable 
in  the  former,  and  that  he  had  not  the  slightest 
objection  to  paying  the  thirty  per  cent,  deposit  re 
quired  on  the  latter ;  then,  a  prey  to  inward  laughter 
at  the  enlivening  spectacle  of  open  trunks  and  red 
faces,  he  proceeded  to  the  railway  station,  looking 
about  him  for  other  signs  that  he  was  in  a  foreign 
country. 

Nova  Scotia  was  very  like  Maine  so  far.  Here 
were  the  Maine  houses,  the  Maine  trees  and  rocks, 
even  the  Maine  wild  flowers  by  the  side  of  the  road. 
He  thoughtfully  boarded  the  train,  scrutinized  the 
comfortable  parlor-car,  and,  after  the  lapse  of  half  an 
hour,  decided  that  he  was  not  in  Maine,  for,  if  he  had 
been,  the  train  would  certainly  have  started. 

As  he  was  making  this  reflection,  a  dapper  individ 
ual,  in  light  trousers,  a  shiny  hat,  and  with  the  inde 
scribable  air  of  being  a  travelling  salesman,  entered 
the  car  where  Vesper  sat  in  solitary  grandeur. 


FROM  BOSTON   TO    AC  A  DIE.  35 

Vesper  slightly  inclined  his  head,  and  the  stranger, 
dropping  a  neat  leather  bag  in  the  seat  next  him, 
observed,  "  We  had  a  good  passage." 

"Very  good,"  replied  Vesper. 

"Nobody  sick,"  pursued  the  dapper  individual, 
taking  off  his  hat,  brushing  it,  and  carefully  replac 
ing  it  on  his  head. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  returned  Vesper ;  then  he 
consulted  his  watch.  "We  are  late  in  starting." 

"We're  always  late,"  observed  the  newcomer, 
tartly.  "  This  is  your  first  trip  down  here  ? " 

Vesper,  with  the  reluctance  of  his  countrymen  to 
admit  that  they  have  done  or  are  doing  something 
for  the  first  time,  did  not  contradict  his  statement. 

"  I've  been  coming  to  this  province  for  ten  years," 
said  his  companion.  "  I  represent  Stone  and  War 
rior." 

Vesper  knew  Stone  and  Warrior's  huge  dry-goods 
establishment,  and  had  due  respect  for  the  opinion  of 
one  of  their  travellers. 

"And  when  we  start  we  don't  go,"  said  the  dry- 
goods  man.  "  This  train  doesn't  dare  show  its  nose 
in  Halifax  before  six  o'clock,  so  she's  just  got  to  put 
in  the  time  somewhere.  Later  in  the  season  they'll 
clap  on  the  Flying  Bluenose,  which  makes  them 
think  they're  flying  through  the  air,  because  she 
spurts  and  gets  in  two  hours  earlier.  How  far  are 
you  going  ? " 


36  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

'•I  don't  know;  possibly  to  Grand  Pre." 

"  A   pretty  country   there,    but   no   big  farms,  — 
kitchen-gardening  compared  with  ours." 

"That  is  where  the  French  used  to  be." 

"  Yes,  but  there  ain't  one  there  now.  The  most 
of  the  French  in  the  province  are  down  here." 

Vesper  let  his  surprised  eyes  wander  out  through 
the  car  window. 

"  Pretty  soon  we'll  begin  to  run  through  the  woods. 
There'll  be  a  shanty  or  two,  a  few  decent  houses  and 
a  station  here  and  there,  and  you'd  think  we  were 
miles  from  nowhere,  but  at  the  same  time  we're  run 
ning  abreast  of  a  village  thirty-five  miles  long." 

"That  is  a  good  length." 

"The  houses  are  strung  along  the  shores  of  this 
Bay,"  continued  the  salesman,  leaning  over  and  tap 
ping  the  map  spread  on  Vesper's  knee.  "The  Bay 
is  forty  miles  long." 

"  Why  didn't  they  build  the  railway  where  the 
village  is  ? " 

"That's  Nova  Scotia,"  said  the  salesman,  drily. 
"  Because  the  people  were  there,  they  put  the  rail 
road  through  the  woods.  They  beat  the  Dutch." 

"  Can't  they  make  money  ?  " 

"  Like  the  mischief,  if  they  want  to,"  and  the  sales 
man  settled  back  in  his  seat  and  put  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  "  It  makes  me  smile  to  hear  people  talk 
ing  about  these  green  Nova  Scotians.  They'll  jump 


FROM  BOSTON   TO   AC  A  DIE.  37 

ahead  of  you  in  a  bargain  as  quick  as  a  New  Yorker 
when  they  give  their  minds  to  it.  But  I'll  add  'em 
up  in  one  word,  — they  don't  care." 

Vesper  did  not  reply,  and,  after  a  minute's  pause 
his  companion  went  on,  with  waxing  indignation. 
"  They  ought  to  have  been  born  in  the  cannibal  isles, 
every  man  Jack  of  'em,  where  they  could  sit  out 
doors  all  day  and  pick  up  cocoanuts  or  eat  each 
other.  Upon  my  life,  you  can  stand  in  the  middle 
of  Halifax,  which  is  their  capital  city,  and  shy  a  stone 
at  half  a  dozen  banks  and  the  post-office,  and  look 
down  and  see  grass  growing  between  the  bricks  at 
your  feet." 

"Very  unprogressive,"  murmured  Vesper. 

The  salesman  relented.  "  But  I've  got  some  good 
chums  there,  and  I  must  say  they've  got  a  lot  of  soft 
soap,  —  more  than  we  have." 

"  That  is,  better  manners  ?  " 

"  Exactly  ;  but  "  —and  he  once  more  hardened  his 
heart  against  the  Nova  Scotians,  —  "  they've  got  more 
time  than  we  have.  There  ain't  so  many  of  'em. 
Look  at  our  Boston  women  at  a  bargain-counter,  — 
you've  got  a  lot  of  curtains  at  four  dollars  a  pair. 
You  can't  sell  'em.  You  run  'em  up  to  six  dollars 
and  advertise,  '  Great  drop  on  ten-dollar  curtains.' 
The  women  rush  to  get  'em.  How  much  time  have 
they  to  be  polite  ?  About  as  much  as  a  pack  of 
wolves." 


38  A'OSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  What  is  the  population  of  Halifax  ? "  asked 
Vesper. 

"About  forty  thousand,"  said  the  salesman,  lolling 
his  head  on  the  back  of  the  seat,  and  running  his 
sentences  as  glibly  from  his  lips  as  if  he  were  recit 
ing  a  lesson,  "  and  a  sly,  sleepy  old  place  it  is,  with 
lots  of  money  in  it,  and  people  pretending  they  are 
poor.  Suburbs  fine,  but  the  city  dirty  from  the  soft 
coal  they  burn.  A  board  fence  around  every  lot  you 
could  spread  a  handkerchief  on,  —  so  afraid  neighbors 
will  see  into  their  back  yards.  If  they'd  knock  down 
their  fences,  pick  up  a  little  of  the  trash  in  the  streets, 
and  limit  the  size  of  their  hotel  keys,  they'd  get  on." 

"  Are  there  any  French  people  there  ? " 

The  salesman  was  not  interested  in  the  French. 
"No,"  he  said,  "not  that  I  ever  heard  of.  They 
could  make  lots  of  money  there,"  he  went  on,  with 
enthusiasm,  "  if  they'd  wake  up.  You  know  there's 
an  English  garrison,  and  our  girls  like  the  military  ; 
but  these  blamed  provincials,  though  they've  got  a 
big  pot  of  jam,  won't  do  anything  to  draw  our  rich 
flies,  not  even  as  much  as  to  put  up  a  bathing-house. 
They  don't  care  a  continental. 

"  There's  a  hotel  beyond  Halifax  where  a  big 
excursion  from  New  York  used  to  go  every  year. 
Last  year  the  manager  said,  '  If  you  don't  clean  up 
your  old  hotel,  and  put  a  decent  boat  on  the  lake, 
you'll  never  see  me  again.'  The  hotel  proprietor 


FROM  BOSTON   TO   AC  AD  IE.  39 

said,  '  I  guess  this  house  is  clean  enough  for  us,  and 
we  haven't  been  spilt  out  of  the  boat  yet,  and  you 
and  your  excursion  can  go  to  Jericho.'  So  the 
excursion  goes  to  Jericho  now,  and  the  hotel  man 
gets  more  time  for  sleep." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  this  French  village  ? " 
asked  Vesper. 

"  No,"  and  the  salesman  stifled  a  yawn.  "  I  only 
call  at  the  principal  towns,  where  the  big  stores  are. 
Good  Lord !  I  wish  those  stick-in-the-muds  would 
come  up  from  the  wharf.  If  I  knew  how  to  run  an 
engine  I'd  be  off  without  'em,"  and  he  strolled  to  the 
car  door.  "  It's  as  quiet  as  death  down  there.  The 
passengers  must  have  chopped  up  the  train-hands 
and  thrown  'em  in  the  water.  If  my  wife  made  up 
her  mind  to  move  to  this  province,  I'd  die  in  ten 
days,  for  I'd  have  so  much  time  to  think  over  my 
sins.  Glory  hallelujah,  here  they  come !  "  and  he 
returned  to  his  seat.  "  The  whole  tribe  of  'em,  edg 
ing  along  as  if  they  were  a  funeral  procession  and  we 
were  the  corpses  on  ahead.  We're  off,"  he  said, 
jocularly,  to  Vesper,  and  he  kicked  out  his  little 
dapper  legs,  stuck  his  ticket  in  the  front  of  his  shiny 
hat,  and  sank  into  a  seat,  where  he  was  soon  asleep. 

Vesper  was  rather  out  of  his  reckoning.  It  had 
not  occurred  to  him,  in  spite  of  Longfellow's  assur 
ance  about  naught  but  tradition  remaining  of  the 
beautiful  village  of  Grand  Pre,  that  no  French  were 


4O  ROSE   A    CHAKL1TTE. 

really  to  be  found  there.  Now,  according  to  the 
salesman,  he  should  look  for  the  Acadiens  in  this 
part  of  the  province.  However,  if  the  French  vil 
lage  was  thirty-five  miles  long  there  was  no  hurry 
about  leaving  the  train,  and  he  settled  back  and 
watched  his  fellow  passengers  leisurely  climbing  the 
steps.  Among  those  who  entered  the  parlor-car  was 
a  stout,  gentlemanly  man,  gesticulating  earnestly, 
although  his  hands  were  full  of  parcels,  and  turning 
every  instant  to  look  with  a  quick,  bright  ey»  into 
the  face  of  his  companion,  who  was  a  priest. 

The  priest  left  him  shortly  after  they  entered  the 
car,  and  the  stout  man  sat  down  and  unfolded  a  news 
paper  on  which  the  name  and  place  of  publication  - 
L'Evangdline,  Journal  Hebdomadaire,   Wcymouth  — 
met    Vesper's   eye   with   grateful   familiarity.       The 
title  was,  of  course,  a  pathetic  reminder  of  the  poem. 
Weymouth,  and  he  glanced  at  his  map,  was  in  the 
line  of  villages  along  the  bay. 

The  gentleman  for  a  time  read  the  paper  intently. 
Then  his  nervous  hands  flung  it  down,  and  Vesper, 
leaning  over,  politely  asked  if  he  would  lend  it  to 
him. 

It  was  handed  to  him  with  a  bow,  and  the  young 
American  was  soon  deep  in  its  contents.  It  had 
been  founded  in  the  interests  of  the  Acadiens  of  the 
Maritime  Provinces,  he  read  in  fluent  modern  French, 
which  greatly  surprised  him,  as  he  had  expected  to  be 


FROM  BOSTON   TO   AC  AD  IE.  4! 

confronted  by  some  curious  patois  concocted  by  this 
remnant  of  a  foreign  race  isolated  so  long  among  the 
English.  He  read  every  word  of  the  paper,  —  the 
cards  of  professional  men,  the  advertisements  of 
shopkeepers,  the  remarks  on  agriculture,  the  edi 
torials  on  Canadian  politics,  the  local  news,  and  the 
story  by  a  Parisian  novelist.  Finally  he  returned 
U Evangttine  to  its  owner,  whose  quick  eyes  were 
looking  him  all  over  in  mingled  curiosity  and  gratifi 
cation,  which  at  last  culminated  in  the  remark  that  it 
was  a  fine  morning. 

Vesper,  with  slow,  quiet  emphasis,  which  always 
imparted  weight  and  importance  to  his  words,  as 
sented  to  this,  with  the  qualification  that  it  was 
chilly. 

"  It  is  never  very  warm  here  until  the  end  of 
June,"  said  the  stout  gentleman,  with  a  courteous 
gesture,  "  but  I  find  this  weather  most  agreeable  for 
wheeling.  I  am  shortly  to  leave  the  train  and  take 
to  my  bicycle  for  the  remainder  of  my  journey." 

Vesper  asked  him  whether  there  was  a  good  road 
along  the  shores  of  the  Bay. 

"  The  best  in  the  province,  but  I  regret  to  say 
that  the  roads  to  it  from  the  stations  are  cut  up  by 
heavy  teaming." 

"  And  the  hotels,  —  are  they  good  ?  " 

"  According  to  the  guide-books  there  are  none  in 
Frenchtown,"  said  the  gentleman,  with  lively  sar- 


42  ROSE   A    CPIARLITTE. 

casm.  "  I  know  of  one  or  two  where  one  can  be 
comfortable.  Here,  for  instance,"  and  one  of  his 
facile  hands  indicated  a  modest  advertisement  in 
L?  Evangeline. 

Sleeping  Water  Inn.  This  inn,  well  patronized  in  the  past, 
is  still  the  rendezvous  for  tourists,  bicyclists,  etc.  The  house 
is  airy,  and  the  table  is  good.  A  trustworthy  teamster  is  always 
at  the  train  to  carry  trunks  and  valises  to  the  inn.  Rose  de 
Foret,  Proprietress. 

Vesper  looked  up,  to  find  his  neighbor  smiling  in 
voluntarily.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  with  contrition, 
"  I  am  thinking  that  you  would  find  the  house  satis 
factory." 

"  It  is  kept  by  a  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  with  preternatural 
gravity  ;  "  Rose  a  Charlitte." 

Vesper  said  nothing,  and  his  face  was  rarely  an 
index  of  his  thoughts,  yet  the  stranger,  knowing  in 
some  indefinable  way  that  he  wished  for  further 
information,  continued.  "  On  the  Bay,  the  friendly 
fashion  prevails  of  using  only  the  first  name.  Rose 
a  Charlitte  is  rarely  called  Madame  de  Foret." 

Vesper  saw  that  some  special  interest  attached  to 
the  proprietress  of  the  Acadien  inn,  yet  did 'not  see 
his  way  clear  to  find  out  what  it  was.  His  new  ac 
quaintance,  however,  had  a  relish  for  his  subject  of 
conversation,  and  pursued  it  with  satisfaction.  "  She 


FROM  BOSTON  TO  ACADIE.  43 

is  very  remarkable,  and  makes  money,  yet  I  hope  that 
fate  will  intervene  to  preserve  her  from  a  life  which 
is,  perhaps,  too  public  for  a  woman  of  her  stamp. 
A  rich  uncle,  one  Auguste  Le  Noir,  whose  beautiful 
home  among  orange  and  fig  trees  on  the  Bayou  Ver 
milion  in  Louisiana  I  visited  last  year,  may  perhaps 
rescue  her.  Not  that  she  does  anything  at  all  out  of 
the  way,"  he  added,  hastily,  "  but  she  is  beautiful  and 
young." 

Vesper  repressed  a  slight  start  at  the  mention  of 
the  name  Le  Noir,  then  asked  calmly  if  it  was  a  com 
mon  one  among  the  Acadiens. 

The  Le  Noirs  and  Le  Blancs,  the  gentleman  as 
sured  him,  were  as  plentiful  as  blackberries,  while  as 
to  Melan^ons,  there  were  eighty  families  of  them  on 
the  Bay.  "  This  has  given  rise  to  the  curious  house- 
that-Jack -built  system  of  naming,"  he  said.  "  There  is 
Jean  a  Jacques  Melangon,  which  is  Jean,  the  son  of 
Jacques,  —  Jean  a  Basile,  Jean  a  David,  and  some 
times  Jean  a  Martin  a  Conrade  a  Benoit  Melangon, 
but"  -and  he  checked  himself  quickly  —  "I  am, 
perhaps,  wearying  you  with  all  this  ? "  He  was  as  a 
man  anxious,  yet  hesitating,  to  impart  information, 
and  Vesper  hastened  to  assure  him  that  he  was 
deeply  interested  in  the  Acadiens. 

The  cloud  swept  from  the  face  of  the  vivacious 
gentleman.  "You  gratify  me.  The  old  prejudice 
against  my  countrymen  still  lingers  in  this  province 


44  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

in  the  shape  of  indifference.  I  rarely  discuss  them 
unless  I  know  my  listener." 

"  Have  I  the  pleasure  of  addressing  an  Acadien  ?  " 
asked  Vesper. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  one,"  said  the  stout  gen 
tleman,  and  his  face  flushed  like  that  of  a  girl. 

Vesper  gave  him  a  quick  glance.  This  was  the 
first  Acadien  that  he  had  ever  seen,  and  he  was 
about  as  far  removed  from  the  typical  Acadien  that 
he  had  pictured  to  himself  as  a  man  could  be.  This 
man  was  a  gentleman.  He  had  expected  to  find  the 
Acadiens,  after  all  the  trials  they  had  gone  through 
in  their  dispossession  of  property  and  wanderings 
by  sea  and  land,  degenerated  into  a  despoiled  and 
poverty-stricken  remnant  of  peasantry.  Curiously 
gratified  by  the  discovery  that  here  was  one  who  had 
not  gone  under  in  the  stress  of  war  and  persecution, 
he  remarked  that  his  companion  was  probably  well- 
informed  on  the  subject  of  the  expulsion  of  his  coun 
trymen  from  this  province. 

"The  expulsion, — ah!"  said  the  gentleman,  in  a 
repressed  voice.  Then,  unable  to  proceed,  he  made 
a  helpless  gesture  and  turned  his  face  towards  the 
window. 

The  younger  man  thought  that  there  were  tears  in 
his  eyes,  and  forbore  to  speak. 

"  One  mentions  it  so  calmly  nowadays,"  said  the 
Acadien,  presently,  looking  at  him.  "  There  is  no 


FROM  BOSTON   TO   AC  A  DIE.  45 

passion,  no  resentment,  yet  it  is  a  living  flame  in  the 
breast  of  every  true  Acadien,  and  this  is  the  reason, 
—  it  is  a  tragedy  that  is  yet  championed.  It  is  com 
monly  believed  that  the  deportation  of  the  Acadiens 
was  a  necessity  brought  about  by  their  stubborn 
ness." 

"  That  is  the  view  I  have  always  taken  of  it,"  said 
Vesper,  mildly.  "  I  have  never  looked  into  the  sub 
ject  exhaustively,  but  my  conclusion  from  desultory 
reading  has  been  that  the  Acadiens  were  an  obsti 
nate  set  of  people  who  dictated  terms  to  the  English, 
which,  as  a  conquered  race,  they  should  not  have 
done,  and  they  got  transported  for  it." 

"  Then  let  me  beg  you,  my  dear  sir,  to  search  into 
the  matter.  If  you  happen  to  visit  the  Sleeping 
Water  Inn,  ask  for  Agapit  Le  Noir.  He  is  an  enthu 
siast  on  the  subject,  and  will  inform  you  ;  and  if  at 
any  time  you  find  yourself  in  our  beautiful  city  of 
Halifax,  may  I  not  beg  the  pleasure  of  a  call  ?  I 
shall  be  happy  to  lay  before  you  some  historical 
records  of  our  race,"  and  he  offered  Vesper  a  card 
on  which  was  engraved,  Dr.  Bernardin  Arseneau, 
Barrington  Street,  Halifax. 

Vesper  took  the  card,  thanked  him,  and  said, 
"  Shall  I  find  any  of  the  descendants  of  the  settlers 
of  Grand  Pre  among  the  Acadiens  on  this  Bay?" 

"  Many,  many  of  them.  When  the  French  first 
came  to  Nova  Scotia,  they  naturally  selected  the 


46  ROSE  A  CHARLITTP:. 

richest  portions  of  the  province.  At  the  expulsion 
these  farms  were  seized.  When,  through  incredible 
hardships,  they  came  struggling  back  to  this  country 
that  they  so  much  loved,  they  could  not  believe  that 
their  lands  would  not  be  restored  to  them.  Many  of 
them  trudged  on  foot  to  fertile  Grand  Pre,  to  Port 
Royal,  and  other  places.  They  looked  in  amazement 
at  the  settlers  who  had  taken  their  homes.  You 
know  who  they  were  ? " 

"No,  I  do  not,"  said  Vesper. 

"They  were  your  own  countrymen,  my  dear  sir, 
if,  as  I  rightly  judge,  you  come  from  the  United 
States.  They  came  to  this  country,  and  found  wait 
ing  for  them  the  fertile  fields  whose  owners  had  been 
seized,  imprisoned,  tortured,  and  carried  to  foreign 
countries,  some  years  before.  Such  is  the  justice  of 
the  world.  For  their  portion  the  returned  Acadiens 
received  this  strip  of  forest  on  the  Bay  Saint-Mary. 
You  will  see  what  they  have  made  of  it,"  and,  with  a 
smile  at  once  friendly  and  sad,  the  stout  gentleman 
left  the  train  and  descended  to  a  little  station  at 
which  they  had  just  pulled  up. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    SLEEPING    WATER    INN. 
"  Montrez-moi  votre  menu  et  je  vous  montrerai  mon  cceur." 

A  FEW  minutes  later,  the  train  had  again  entered 
the  forest,  and  Vesper,  who  had  a  passion  for  trees 
and  ranked  them  with  human  beings  in  his  affec 
tions,  allowed  the  mystery  and  charm  of  these  for 
eigners  to  steal  over  him.  In  dignified  silence  and 
reserve  the  tall  pines  seemed  to  draw  back  from  the 
rude  contact  of  the  passing  train.  The  more  assert 
ive  firs  and  spruces  stood  still,  while  the  slender 
hackmatacks,  most  beautiful  of  all  the  trees  of  the 
wood,  writhed  and  shook  with  fright,  nervously  toss 
ing  their  tremulous  arms  and  tasselled  heads,  and 
breathing  long  odoriferous  sighs  that  floated  after, 
but  did  not  at  all  touch  the  sympathies  of  the  roaring 
monster  from  the  outer  world  who  so  often  dese 
crated  their  solitude. 

Vesper's  delicate  nostrils  dilated  as  the  spicy  odors 
saluted  them,  and  he  thought,  with  tenderness,  of 
the  home  trees  that  he  loved,  the  elms  of  the  Com 
mon  and  those  of  the  square  where  he  had  been 

47 


48  KOSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

born.  How  many  times  he  had  encircled  them  with 
admiring  footsteps,  noting  the  individual  characteris 
tics  of  each  tree,  and  giving  to  each  one  a  separate 
place  in  his  heart.  Just  for  an  instant  he  regretted 
that  for  to-night  he  could  not  lie  down  in  their 
shadow.  Then  he  turned  irritably  to  the  salesman, 
who  was  stretching  arid  shaking  out  his  legs,  and 
performing  other  calisthenic  exploits  as  accompani 
ments  of  waking. 

"  Haven't  we  come  to  Great  Scott  yet  ?  "  he  asked, 
getting  up,  and  sauntering  to  Vesper's  window. 

Vesper  consulted  his  folder.  Among  the  French 
names  he  could  discover  nothing  like  this,  unless  it 
was  Grosses  Coques,  so  called,  his  guide-book  told 
him,  because  the  Acadiens  had  discovered  enormous 
clams  there. 

The  salesman  settled  the  question  by  dabbing  at 
the  name  with  his  fat  forefinger.  "  Confound  these 
French  names,  and  thank  the  Lord  they're  begin 
ning  to  give  them  up.  This  Sleeping  Water  we're 
coming  to  used  to  be  L '  Eau  Dortnantc.  If  I  had  my 
way,  I'd  string  up  on  these  pines  every  fellow  that 
spoke  a  word  of  this  gibberish.  That  would  cure 
'em.  Why  can't  they  have  one  language,  as  we 
do?" 

"How  would  you  like  to  talk  French?"  asked 
Vesper,  quietly. 

The    little    man  laughed    shrewdly,   and    not    un- 


THE  SLEEPING    WATER  INN.  49 

kindly.  "  Every  man  to  his  liking.  I  guess  it's 
best  not  to  fight  too  much." 

"  I  get  off  here,"  said  Vesper,  gathering  up  his 
papers. 

"Happy  you, — you  won't  have  to  wait  for  all  of 
Evangeline's  heifers  to  step  off  the  track  between 
here  and  Halifax." 

Vesper  nodded  to  him,  and,  swinging  himself  from 
the  car,  went  to  find  the  conductor. 

There  was  ample  time  to  get  that  gentlemanly 
official's  consent  to  have  his  wheel  and  trunk  put 
off  at  this  station,  instead  of  at  Grand  Pre,  and 
ample  time  for  Vesper  to  give  a  long  look  at  the 
names  in  the  line  of  cars,  which  were,  successively, 
Basil  the  Blacksmith,  Benedict  the  Father,  Rene 
the  Notary,  and  Gabriel  the  Lover,  before  the 
locomotive  snuffed  its  nostrils  and,  panting  and 
heaving,  started  off  to  trail  its  romantic  appendages 
through  the  country  of  Evangeline. 

When  the  train  had  disappeared,  Vesper  looked 
about  him.  He  was  no  longer  in  the  heart  of  the 
forest.  An  open  country  and  scattering  houses  ap 
peared  in  the  distance,  and  here  he  could  distinctly 
feel  a  mischievous  breeze  from  the  Bay  that  playfully 
ruffled  his  hair,  and  tossed  back  the  violets  at  his 
feet  every  time  that  they  bent  over  to  look  at  their 
own  sweet  faces  in  the  black,  mirror-like  pool  of 
water  set  in  a  mossy  bed  beside  them. 


5O  KOSE    A    C1IARIJTTE. 

He  stooped  and  picked  one  of  the  wistful  purple 
blossoms,  then  stepped  up  on  the  platform  of  the 
gabled  station-house.  Inside  the  kitchen,  a  woman, 
sitting  with  her  back  to  the  passing  trains,  was 
spinning,  and  at  the  same  time  rocking  a  cradle, 
while  near  the  door  stood  an  individual  who,  to 
Vesper's  secret  amusement,  might  have  posed  either 
as  a  member  of  the  human  species,  or  as  one  of  the 
class  avcs. 

He  had  many  times  seen  the  fellows  of  this  white- 
haired,  smooth-faced  old  man,  in  the  Southern  States 
in  the  shape  of  cardinal-birds.  Those  resplendent 
creatures  in  the  male  sex  are  usually  clothed  in  gay 
red  jackets.  This  male's  plumage  was  also  red,  but, 
unlike  the  cardinal-birds,  it  had  a  trimming  of  pearl 
buttons  and  white  lace.  The  bird's  high  and  conical 
crest  was  expressed  in  the  man  by  a  pointed  red 
cap.  The  bird  is  nondescript  as  to  the  legs,  —  so 
also  was  the  man  ;  and  the  loud  and  musical  note 
of  the  Southern  songster  was  reproduced  in  the 
fife-like  tones  of  the  Acadien,  when  he  presently 
spoke. 

He  was  an  official,  and  carried  in  his  hand  a  locked 
bag  containing  her  Majesty's  mail  for  her  Acadien 
subjects  of  the  Bay.  Vesper  had  seen  the  mail-car 
riers  along  the  route,  tossing  their  bags  to  the  pass 
ing  train,  and  receiving  others  in  return,  but  none 
as  gorgeous  as  this  one,  and  he  was  wondering 


THE   SLEETING    IV A  TER   lA'N.  5  T 

why  the  gentle-faced  septuagenarian  made  himself  so 
peculiar,  when  he  was  addressed  in  a  sweet,  high 
voice. 

"Sir,"  said  the  bird-man,  in  French,  —  for  was  he 
not  Emnianuel  Victor  de  la  Rive,  lineal  descendant 
of  a  French  marquis  who  had  married  a  queen's 
maid  of  honor,  and  had  subsequently  bequeathed 
his  bones  and  his  large  family  of  children  to  his 
adored  Acadie  ? — "Sir,  is  it  possible  that  you  are 
a  guest  for  the  inn?" 

"  It  is  possible,"  said  Vesper,  gravely. 

"Alas!"  said  the  old  man,  turning  to  the  dark- 
eyed  woman,  who  had  left  her  cradle  and  spinning- 
wheel,  "  is  it  not  always  so  ?  When  Rose  a  Char- 
litte  does  not  send,  there  are  arrivals.  When  she 
does,  there  are  not.  She  will  be  in  despair.  Sir, 
shall  I  have  the  honor  of  taking  you  over  in  my 
road-cart  ? " 

"  I  have  a  wheel,"  said  Vesper,  pointing  to  the 
bicycle,  leaning  disconsolately  against  his  trunk. 

The  bla'ck-eyed  woman  immediately  put  out  her 
hand  for  his  checks. 

"Then  may  I  have  the  honor  of  showing  you  the 
way  ? "  said  Monsieur  de  la  Rive,  bowing  before  Ves 
per  as  if  he  were  a  divinity.  "  There  are  sides  of 
the  road  which  it  is  well  to  avoid." 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  avail  myself  of  your 
offer." 


52  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  I  will  send  the  trunk  over,"  said  the  station 
woman.  "There  is  a  constant  going  that  way." 

Vesper  thanked  her,  and  left  the  station  in  the 
wake  of  the  cardinal-bird,  who  sat  perched  on  his 
narrow  seat  as  easily  as  if  it  were  a  branch,  of  a  tree, 
turning  his  crested  head  at  frequent  intervals  to  look 
anxiously  at  the  mail-bag  which,  for  reasons  best 
known  to  himself,  he  carried  slung  to  a  nail  in  the 
back  of  his  cart. 

At  frequent  intervals,  too,  he  piped  shrill  and 
sweet  remarks  to  Vesper.  "  Courage  ;  the  road  will 
soon  improve.  It  is  the  ox-teams  that  cut  it  up. 
They  load  schooners  in  the  Bay.  Here  at  last  is  a 
good  spot.  Monsieur  can  mount  now.  Beware  of 
the  sharp  stones.  All  the  bones  of  the  earth  stick 
up  in  places.  Does  monsieur  intend  to  stay  long 
in  Sleeping  Water  ?  "  Was  it  monsieur  that  Rose  a 
Charlitte  expected  when  she  drove  through  the  pour 
ing  rain  to  the  station,  two  days  since  ?  What  did 
he  say  in  the  letter  that  he  sent  yesterday  in  explana 
tion  of  his  change  of  plans  ?  Did  monsieur  come 
from  Halifax,  or  Boston  ?  Did  he  know  Mrs.  de  la 
Rive,  laundress,  of  Cambridge  Street  ?  Had  he 
samples  of  candy  or  tobacco  in  that  big  box  of  his  ? 
How  much  did  he  charge  a  pound  for  his  best  pep 
permints  ? " 

Vesper,  fully  occupied  with  keeping  his  wheel  out 
of  the  ruts  in  the  road,  and  in  maintaining  a  safe  dis- 


THE   SLEEP J 'A'G    WAITER   INN.  53 

tance  from  the  cart,  which  pressed  him  sore  if  he 
went  ahead  and  waited  for  him  if  he  dallied  behind, 
answered  "  yes  "  and  "  no  "  at  random,  until  at  length 
he  had  involved  himself  in  such  a  maze  of  contradic 
tions  that  Monsieur  de  la  Rive  felt  himself  forced  to 
pull  up  his  brown  pony  and  remonstrate. 

"  But  it  is  impossible,  monsieur,  that  you  should 
have  seen  Mrs.  de  la  Rive,  who  has  been  dying  for 
weeks,  dancing  at  the  wedding  of  the  daughter  of  her 
step-uncle,  the  baker,  and  yet  you  say  '  yes  '  when  I 
remark  that  she  was  not  there." 

The  stop  and  the  remonstrance  were  so  birdlike 
and  so  quick,  that  Vesper,  taken  aback,  fell  off  his 
wheel  and  broke  his  cyclometer. 

He  picked  himself  out  of  the  dust,  swearing  under 
his  breath,  and  Monsieur  de  la  Rive,  being  a  gentle 
man,  and  seeing  that  this  quiet  young  stranger  was 
disinclined  for  conversation,  suddenly  whipped  up  his 
pony  and  sped  madly  on  ahead,  the  tails  of  his  red 
coat  streaming  out  behind  him,  the  tip  of  his  pointed 
cap  fluttering  and  nodding  over  his  thick  white  locks 
of  hair. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes,  Vesper  had 
recovered  his  composure,  and  was  looking  calmly 
about  him.  The  road  was  better  now,  and  they 
were  nearing  the  Bay,  that  lay  shimmering  and  shin 
ing  like  a  great  sea-serpent  coiled  between  purple 
hills.  He  did  not  know  what  Grand  Pre  was  like, 


54  ROSE   A    CHARI.ITTE. 

and  was  therefore  unaware  of  the  extent  of  the 
Acadiens'  loss  in  being  driven  from  it ;  but  this  was 
by  no  means  a  barren  country.  On  either  side  of 
him  were  fairly  prosperous  farms,  each  one  with  a 
light  painted  wooden  house,  around  which  clustered 
usually  a  group  of  children,  presided  over  by  a 
mother,  who,  as  the  mail-driver  dashed  by,  would 
appear  in  the  doorway,  thrusting  forth  her  matronly 
face,  often  partly  shrouded  by  a  black  handkerchief. 

These  black  handkerchiefs,  la  cape  Normandc  of 
old  France,  were  almost  universal  on  the  heads  of 
women  and  girls.  He  could  see  them  in  the  fields 
and  up  and  down  the  roads.  They  and  the  vivacious 
sound  of  the  French  tongue  gave  the  foreign  touch 
to  his  surroundings,  which  he  found,  but  for  these 
reminders,  might  once  again  have  been  those  of  an 
out-of-the-way  district  in  some  New  England  State. 

He  noticed,  with  regret,  that  the  forest  had  all 
been  swept  away.  The  Acadiens,  in  their  zeal  for 
farming,  had  wielded  their  axes  so  successfully  that 
scarcely  a  tree  had  been  left  between  the  station 
and  the  Bay.  Here  and  there  stood  a  lonely  guar 
dian  angel,  in  the  shape  of  a  solitary  pine,  hovering 
over  some  Acadien  roof-tree,  and  turning  a  mel 
ancholy  face  towards  its  brothers  of  the  forest,  — 
rugged  giants  primeval,  now  prostrate  and  forlorn, 
and  being  trailed  slowly  along  towards  the  waiting 
schooners  in  the  Bay. 


THP:   SLEEPING    WATER   INN.  55 

The  most  of  these  fallen  giants  were  loaded  on 
rough  carts  drawn  by  pairs  of  sleek  and  well-kept 
oxen  who  were  yoked  by  the  horns.  The  carts  were 
covered  with  mud  from  the  bad  roads  of  the  forest, 
and  muddy  also  were  the  boots  of  the  stalwart 
Acadien  drivers,  who  walked  beside  the  oxen,  whip 
in  hand,  and  turned  frankly  curious  faces  towards  the 
stranger  who  flashed  by  their  slow-moving  teams  on 
his  shining  wheel. 

The  road  was  now  better,  and  Vesper  quickly 
attained  to  the  top  of  the  last  hill  between  the  sta 
tion  and  the  Bay. 

Ah  !  now  the  fields  did  not  appear  bare,  the  houses 
naked,  the  whole  country  wind-swept  and  cold,  for 
the  wide,  regal,  magnificent  Bay  lay  spread  out  before 
him.  It  was  no  longer  a  thread  of  light,  a  sea-ser 
pent  shining  in  the  distance,  but  a  great,  broad,  beau 
tiful  basin,  on  whose  placid  bosom  all  the  Acadien, 
New  England,  and  Nova  Scotian  fleets  might  float 
with  never  a  jostle  between  any  of  their  ships. 

A  fire  of  admiration  kindled  in  his  calm  eyes,  and 
he  allowed  himself  to  glide  rapidly  down  the  hill 
towards  this  brilliant  blue  sweep  of  water,  along 
whose  nearer  shores  stretched,  as  far  as  his  gaze 
could  reach,  the  curious  dotted  line  of  the  French 
village. 

The  country  had  become  flat,  as  flat  as  Holland, 
9Jid  the  fields  rolled  down  into  the  water  in  the 


56  ROSE    A    CHARLITTE. 

softest,  most  exquisite  shades  of  green,  according 
to  the  different  kinds  of  grass  or  grain  flourishing 
along  the  shores.  The  houses  were  placed  among 
the  fields,  some  close  together,  some  far  apart,  all, 
however,  but  a  stone's  throw  from  the  water's  edge, 
as  if  the  Acadiens,  fearful  of  another  expulsion,  held 
themselves  always  in  readiness  to  step  into  the  pro 
cession  of  boats  and  schooners  moored  almost  in 
their  dooryards. 

At  the  point  where  Vesper  found  himself  threat 
ened  with  precipitation  into  the  Bay,  they  struck  the 
village  line.  Here,  at  the  corner,  was  the  general 
shop  and  post-office  of  Sleeping  Water.  The  cardi 
nal-bird  fluttered  his  mail-bag  in  among  the  loafers 
at  the  door,  saw  the  shopkeeper  catch  it,  then, 
swelling  out  his  vermilion  breast  with  importance, 
he  nimbly  took  the  corner  with  one  wheel  in  the  air 
and  pulled  up  before  the  largest,  whitest  house  on  the 
street,  and  flourished  a  flaming  wing  in  the  direction 
of  a  swinging  sign,  —  "The  Sleeping  Water  Inn." 

Vesper,  biting  his  lip  to  restrain  a  smile,  rounded 
the  corner  after  him,  and  leisurely  stepped  from  his 
wheel  in  front  of  the  house. 

"  Ring,  sir,  and  enter,"  piped  the  bird,  then,  wish 
ing  him  bonne  chance  (good  luck),  he  flew  away. 

Vesper  pulled  the  bell,  and,  as  no  one  answered 
his  summons,  he  sauntered  through  the  open  door 
into  the  hall. 


THE   SLEEPING    WATER   INN.  $? 

So  this  was  an  Acadien  house,  —  and  he  had 
expected  a  log  hut.  He  could  command  a  view 
from  where  he  stood  of  a  staircase,  a  smoking-room, 
and  a  parlor,  —  all  clean,  cool,  and  comfortably  fur 
nished,  and  having  easy  chairs,  muslin  curtains, 
books,  and  pictures. 

He  smiled  to  himself,  murmured  "I  wonder  where 
the  dining-room  is?  These  flies  will  probably  know," 
and  followed  a  prosperous  -  looking  swarm  sailing 
through  the  hall  to  a  distant  doorway. 

A  table,  covered  by  a  snowy  cloth  and  set  ready 
for  a  meal,  stood  before  him.  He  walked  around  it, 
rapped  on  a  door,  behind  which  he  heard  a  murmur 
of  voices,  and  was  immediately  favored  with  a  sight 
of  an  Acadien  kitchen. 

This  one  happened  to  be  large,  lofty,  and  of  a 
grateful  irregularity  in  shape.  The  ceiling  was  as 
white  as  snow,  and  a  delicate  blue  and  cream  paper 
adorned  the  walls.  The  floor  was  of  hard  wood  and 
partly  covered  with  brightly  colored  mats,  made  by 
the  skilful  fingers  of  Acadien  women.  There  were 
several  windows  and  doors,  and  two  pantries,  but  no 
fireplace.  An  enormous  Boston  cooking  range  took 
its  place.  Every  cover  on  it  glistened  with  blacking, 
every  bit  of  nickel  plating  was  polished  to  the  last 
degree,  and,  as  if  to  show  that  this  model  stove 
could  not  possibly  be  malevolent  enough  to  throw 
out  impurities  in  the  way  of  soot  and  ashes,  there 


58  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

stood  beside  it  a  tall  clothes-horse  full  of  white 
ironed  clothes  hung  up  to  air. 

But  the  most  remarkable  thing  in  this  exquisitely 
clean  kitchen  was  the  mistress  of  the  inn,  —  tall, 
willowy  Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte,  who  stood  confront 
ing  the  newcomer  with  a  dish-cover  in  one  hand  and 
a  clean  napkin  in  the  other,  her  pretty  oval  face 
flushed  from  some  sacrifice  she  had  been  offering  up 
on  her  huge  Moloch  of  a  stove. 

"Can  you  give  me  some  lunch?"  asked  Vesper, 
and  he  wondered  whether  he  should  find  a  descend 
ant  of  the  Fiery  Frenchman  in  this  placid  beauty, 
whose  limpid  blue  eyes,  girlish,  innocent  gaze,  and 
thick  braid  of  hair,  with  the  little  confusion  of  curls 
on  the  forehead,  reminded  him  rather  of  a  Gretchen 
or  a  Marguerite  of  the  stage. 

"But  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte,  in  uncer 
tain  yet  pretty  English,  and  her  gentle  and  demure 
glance  scrutinized  him  with  some  shrewdness  and 
accurate  guessing  as  to  his  attainments  and  station 
in  life. 

"  Can  you  give  it  to  me  soon  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  can  give  it  soon,"  she  replied,  and  as  she  spoke 
she  made  an  almost  imperceptible  motion  of  her 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  neat  maid-servant  be 
hind  her,  who  at  once  flew  out  to  the  garden  for 
fresh  vegetables,  while,  with  her  foot,  which  was 
almost  as  slender  as  her  hand,  Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte 


THE   SLEEPING    WATER   INN.  59 

pulled  out  a  damper  in  the  stove  that  at  once  caused 
a  still  more  urgent  draft  to  animate  the  glowing 
wood  inside. 

"  Can  you  let  me  have  a  room  ?  "  pursued  Vesper. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Rose,  and  she  turned  to 
the  third  occupant  of  the  kitchen,  a  pale  child  with 
a  flowerlike  face  and  large,  serious  eyes,  who  sat  with 
folded  hands  in  a  little  chair.  "  Narcisse,"  she  said, 
in  French,  "wilt  thou  go  and  show  the  judge's 
room  ? ' ' 

The  child,  without  taking  his  fascinated  gaze 
fiom  Vesper,  responded,  in  a  sweet,  drawling  voice, 
"  Ou-a-a-y,  ma  ma-r-rc"  (yes,  my  mother).  Then, 
rising,  he  trotted  slowly  through  the  dining-room 
and  up  the  staircase  to  a  hall  above,  where  he  gravely 
threw  open  the  door  of  a  good-sized  chamber,  whose 
chief  ornament  was  a  huge  white  bed. 

"Why  do  you  call  this  the  judge's  room?"  asked 
Vesper,  in  French. 

The  child  answered  him  in  unintelligible  childish 
speech,  that  made  the  young  man  observe  him  in 
tently.  "  I  believe  you  look  like  me,  you  black 
lily,"  he  said,  at  last. 

There  was,  indeed,  a  resemblance  between  their 
two  heads.  Both  had  pale,  inscrutable  faces,  dark 
eyes,  and  curls  like  midnight  clustering  over  their 
white  foreheads.  Both  were  serious,  grave,  and 
reserved  in  expression.  The  child  stared  up  at 


60  ROSS,    A    CHAKLll^TE. 

Vesper,  then,  seizing  one  of  his  hands,  he  patted  it 
gently  with  his  tiny  fingers.  They  were  friends. 

Vesper  allowed  the  child  to  hold  his  hand  until  he 
plunged  his  head  into  a  basin  of  cold  water.  Then, 
with  water  dripping  from  his  face,  he  paused  to 
examine  a  towel  before  he  would  press  it  against  his 
sensitive  skin.  It  was  fine  and  perfectly  clean,  and, 
with  a  satisfied  air,  he  murmured  :  "  So  far,  Doctor 
Arseneau  has  not  led  me  astray." 

The  child  waited  patiently  until  the  stranger  had 
smoothed  down  his  black  curls,  then,  stretching  out 
a  hand,  he  mutely  invited  him  to  descend  to  the 
parlor. 

Upon  arriving  there,  he  modestly  withdrew  to  a 
corner,  after  pointing  out  a  collection  of  photographs 
on  the  table.  Vesper  made  a  pretence  of  examining 
them  until  the  entrance  of  his  landlady  with  the 
announcement  that  his  lunch  was  served. 

She  shyly  set  before  him  a  plate  of  soup,  and  a 
dish  which  she  called  a  little  ragout,  "  not  as  good  as 
the  ragouts  of  Boston,  and  yet  eatable." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  am  from  Boston  ? " 
asked  Vesper. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  murmured,  with  a  quick 
blush.  "  Monsieur  is  from  Halifax,  I  thought.  He 
seems  English.  I  speak  of  Boston  because  it  was 
there  that  I  learned  to  cook." 

Vesper   said   nothing,   but  his   silence   seemed   to 


"THEY    WERE    FRIENDS." 


THE   SLEEPING    WATER   INN.  6 1 

invite  a  further  explanation,  and  she  went  on,  mod 
estly  :  "  When  I  received  news  that  my  husband  had 
died  of  yellow  fever  in  the  West  Indies,  neighbors 
said,  '  What  will  you  do  ? '  My  stepmother  said, 
'  Come  home  ; '  but  I  answered,  '  No  ;  a  child  that  has 
left  its  father's  roof  does  not  return.  I  will  keep 
hotel.  My  house  is  of  size.  I  will  go  to  Boston  and 
learn  to  cook  better  than  I  know.'  So  I  went,  and 
stayed  one  week." 

"That  was  a  short  time  to  learn  cooking,"  ob 
served  Vesper,  politely. 

"  I  did  not  study.  I  bought  cuisine  books.  I  went 
to  grand  hotels  and  regarded  the  tables  and  tasted 
the  dishes.  If  I  now  had  more  money,  I  would  do 
similar,"  and  she  anxiously  surveyed  her  modest 
table  and  the  aristocratic  young  man  seated  at  it  ; 
"  but  not  many  people  come,  and  the  money  lacks. 
However,  our  Lord  knows  that  I  wish  to  educate 
my  child.  Strangers  will  come  when  he  is  older. 

"And,"  she  went  on,  after  a  time,  with  mingled 
reluctance  and  honesty,  "  I  must  not  hide  from  you 
that  I  have  already  in  the  bank  two  hundred  dollars. 
It  is  not  much  ;  not  so  much  as  the  Gautreaus,  who 
have  six  hundred,  and  Agapit,  who  has  four,  yet  it  is 
a  starting." 

Vesper  slightly  wrinkled  his  forehead,  and  Mrs. 
Rose,  fearful  that  her  cooking  displeased  him,  for  he 
had  scarcely  tasted  the  ragotit  and  had  put  aside 


a  roast  chicken,  hastened  to  exclaim,  "  That  pudding 
is  but  overheated,  and  I  did  wrong  to  place  it  before 
you.  Despise  it  if  you  care,  and  it  will  please  the 
hens." 

"  It  is  a  very  good  pudding,"  said  Vesper,  com 
posedly,  and  he  proceeded  to  finish  it. 

"  Here  is  a  custard  which  is  quite  fresh,"  said  his 
landlady,  feverishly,  "  and  bananas,  and  oranges,  and 
some  coffee." 

"  Thank  you.  No  cream  —  may  I  ask  why  you 
call  that  room  you  put  me  in  the  judge's  room?" 

"  Because  we  have  court  near  by,  every  year.  The 
judge  who  comes  exists  in  that  room.  It  is  a  most 
stirabout  time,  for  many  witnesses  and  lawyers  come. 
Perhaps  monsieur  passed  the  court-house  and  saw 
a  lady  looking  through  the  bars  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not.     Who  is  the  lady  ?  " 

"  A  naughty  one,  who  sold  liquor.  She  had  no 
license,  she  could  not  pay  her  fine,  therefore  she 
must  look  through  those  iron  bars,"  and  Mrs.  Rose 
a  Charlitte  shuddered. 

Vesper  looked  interested,  and  presently  she  went 
on  :  "  But  Clothilde  Dubois  has  some  mercies,  —  one 
rocking-chair,  her  own  feather  bed,  some  dainties  to 
eat,  and  many  friends  to  visit  and  talk  through  the 
bars." 

"  Is  there  much  drinking  among  the  Acadiens  on 
this  Bay  ?  "  asked  Vesper. 


THE   SLEEPING    WATER   INN.  63 

"They  do  not  drink  at  all,"  she  said,  stoutly. 

"  Really,  — then  you  never  see  a  drunken  man  ? " 

"  I  never  see  a  drunken  man,"  rejoined  his  pretty 
hostess. 

"Then  I  suppose  there  are  no  fights." 

"  There  are  no  fights  among  Acadiens.  They  are 
good  people.  They  go  to  mass  and  vespers  on  Sun 
day.  They  listen  to  their  good  priests.  In  the  even 
ing  one  amuses  oneself,  and  on  Monday  we  rise  early 
to  work.  There  are  no  dances,  no  fights." 

Vesper's  meditative  glance  wandered  through  the 
window  to  a  square  of  grass  outside,  where  some  little 
girls  in  pink  cotton  dresses  were  playing  croquet. 
He  was  drinking  his  coffee  and  watching  their  grace 
ful  behavior,  when  his  attention  was  recalled  to  the 
room  by  hearing  Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte  say  to  her 
child,  "There,  Narcisse,  is  a  morsel  for  thy  trees." 

The  little  boy  had  come  from  the  corner  where  he 
had  sat  like  a  patient  mouse,  and,  with  some  excite 
ment,  was  heaping  a  plate  with  the  food  that  Vesper 
had  rejected. 

"  Not  so  fast,  little  one,"  said  his  mother,  with  an 
apologetic  glance  at  the  stranger.  "  Take  these 
plates  to  the  pantry,  it  will  be  better." 

"  Ah,  but  they  will  have  a  good  dinner  to-day," 
said  the  child.  "  I  will  give  most  to  the  French 
willows,  my  mother.  In  the  morning  it  will  all 
be  gone." 


"  But,  my  treasure,  it  is  the  dogs  that  get  it,  not 
the  trees." 

"  No,  my  mother,"  he  drawled,  "  you  do  not  know. 
In  the  night  the  long  branches  stretch  out  their 
arms  ;  they  sweep  it  up,"  and  he  clasped  his  tiny 
hands  in  ecstacy. 

Vesper's  curiosity  was  aroused,  although  he  had 
not  understood  half  that  the  child  had  said.  "  Does 
he  like  trees  ?  "  he  asked. 

Rose  a  Charlitte  made  a  puzzled  gesture.  "  Sir,  to 
him  the  trees,  the  flowers,  the  grass,  are  quite  alive. 
He  will  not  play  croquet  with  those  dear  little  girls 
lest  his  shoes  hurt  the  grass.  If  I  would  allow,  he 
would  take  all  the  food  from  the  house  and  lay  under 
the  trees  and  the  flowers.  He  often  cries  at  night, 
for  he  says  the  hollyhocks  and  sunflowers  are  hungry, 
because  they  are  tall  and  lean.  He  suffers  terribly 
to  see  the  big  spruces  and  pines  cut  down  and 
dragged  to  the  shore.  The  doctor  says  he  should  go 
away  for  awhile,  but  it  is  a  puzzle,  for  I  cannot 
endure  to  have  him  leave  me." 

Vesper  gave  more  attention  than  he  yet  had  done 
to  the  perusal  of  the  child's  sensitive  yet  strangely 
composed  face.  Then  he  glanced  at  the  mother. 
Did  she  understand  him  ? 

She  did.  In  her  deep  blue  eyes  he  could  readily 
perceive  the  quick  flash  of  maternal  love  and  sym 
pathy  whenever  her  boy  spoke  to  her.  She  was 


THE   SLEEPING    WATER   INN.  65 

young,  too,  extremely  young,  to  have  the  care  of 
rearing  a  child.  She  must  have  been  married  in  her 
cradle,  and  with  that  thought  in  mind  he  said,  "  Do 
Acadien  women  marry  at  an  early  age  ? " 

"  Not  more  so  than  the  English,"  said  Mrs.  Rose, 
with,  a  shrug  of  her  graceful,  sloping  shoulders, 
"though  I  was  but  young, — but  seventeen.  But 
my  husband  wished  it  so.  He  had  built  this  house. 
He  had  been  long  ready  for  marriage,"  and  she 
glanced  at  the  wall  behind  Vesper. 

The  young  man  turned  around.  Just  behind 
him  hung  the  enlarged  photograph  of  a  man  of 
middle  age,  —  a  man  who'  must  have  been  many 
years  older  than  his  young  wife,  and  whose  death 
had,  evidently,  not  left  a  permanent  blank  in  her 
affections. 

In  a  nai've,  innocent  way  she  imparted  a  few  more 
particulars  to  Vesper  with  regard  to  her  late  hus 
band,  and,  as  he  rose  from  the  table,  she  followed  him 
to  the  parlor  and  said,  gently,  "  Perhaps  monsieur 
will  register." 

Vesper  sat  down  before  the  visitors'  book  on  the 
table,  and,  taking  up  a  pen,  wrote,  "  Vesper  L. 
Nimmo,  The  Evening  News,  Boston." 

After  he  had  pressed  the  blotting-paper  on  his 
words,  and  pushed  the  book  from  him,  his  landlady 
stretched  out  her  hand  in  childlike  curiosity.  "  Ves 
per,"  she  said,  — "that  name  is  beautiful ;  it  is  in  a 


66  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

hymn  to  the  blessed  virgin  ;  but  Evening  News,  — 
surely  it  means  not  a  journal  ? " 

Vesper  assured  her  that  it  did. 

The  young  French  widow's  face  fell.  She  gazed 
at  him  with  a  sudden  and  inexplicable  change  of 
expression,  in  which  there  was  something  of  regret, 
something  of  reproach.  "  II  faut  qite  je  m  en  aillc  " 
(I  must  go  away),  she  murmured,  reverting  to  her 
native  language,  and  she  swiftly  withdrew. 

Vesper  lifted  his  level  eyebrows  and  languidly 
strolled  out  to  the  veranda.  "The  Acadienne  evi 
dently  entertains  some  prejudice  against  newspaper 
men.  If  my  dear  father  were  here  he  would  imme 
diately  proceed,  in  his  inimitable  way,  to  clear  it  from 
her  mind.  As  for  me,  I  am  not  sufficiently  inter 
ested,"  and  he  listlessly  stretched  himself  out  on  a 
veranda  settle. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  a  little  voice,  in  deliberate 
French,  "  will  you  tell  me  a  story  about  a  tree  ? " 

Vesper  understood  Narcisse  this  time,  and,  taking 
him  on  his  knee,  he  pointed  to  the  wooded  hills  across 
the  Bay  and  related  a  wonderful  tale  of  a  city  beyond 
the  sun  where  the  trees  were  not  obliged  to  stand 
still  in  the  earth  from  morning  till  night,  but  could 
walk  about  and  visit  men  and  women,  who  were  their 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  sometimes  the  young  trees 
would  stoop  down  and  play  with  the  children. 


CHAPTER   V. 

AGAPIT,     THE     ACADIEN. 

"  The  music  of  our  life  is  keyed 

To  moods  that  sweep  athwart  the  soul ; 
The  strain  will  oft  in  gladness  roll, 
Or  die  in  sobs  and  tears  at  need ; 
But  sad  or  gay,  'tis  ever  true 
That,  e'en  as  flowers  from  light  take  hue, 
The  key  is  of  our  mood  the  deed." 

AMINTA.     CORNELIUS  O'BRIEN, 

Archbishop  of  Halifax. 

AFTER  Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte  left  Vesper  she 
passed  through  the  kitchen,  and,  ascending  an  open 
stairway  leading  to  regions  above,  was  soon  at  the  door 
of  the  highest  room  in  the  house. 

Away  up  there,  sitting  at  a  large  table  drawn  up 
to  the  window  which  commanded  an  extensive  view 
of  the  Bay,  sat  a  sturdy,  black-haired  young  man. 
As  Mrs.  Rose  entered  the  room  she  glanced  about 
approvingly  —  for  she  was  a  model  housekeeper  — 
at  the  neatly  arranged  books  and  papers  on  tables 
and  shelves,  and  then  said,  regretfully,  and  in  French, 
"  There  is  another  of  them." 

"Of  them,  —  of  whom?"  said  the  young  man, 
peevishly,  and  in  the  same  language. 

67 


68  A'OSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Of  the  foolish  ones  who  write,"  continued  Mrs. 
Rose,  with  gentle  mischief ;  "  who  waste  much  time 
in  scribbling." 

"  There  are  people  whose  brains  are  continually 
stewing  over  cooking-stoves,"  said  the  young  man, 
scornfully  ;  "  they  are  incapable  of  rising  higher." 

"La,  la,  Agapit,"  she  said,  good-naturedly.  "Do 
not  be  angry  with  thy  cousin.  I  came  to  warn  thee 
lest  thou  shouldst  talk  freely  to  him  and  afterward 
be  sorry." 

The  young  man  threw  his  pen  on  the  table,  pushed 
back  his  chair,  and,  springing  to  his  feet,  began  to  pace 
excitedly  up  and  down  the  room,  gesticulating  eagerly 
as  he  talked. 

"  When  fine  weather  comes,"  he  exclaimed,  "  stran 
gers  flock  to  the  Bay.  We  arc  glad  to  see  them, 
—  all  but  these  abominable  idiots.  Therefore  when 
they  arrive  let  the  frost  come,  let  us  have  hail,  wind, 
and  snow  to  drive  them  home,  that  we  may  enjoy 
peace." 

"  But  unfortunately  in  June  we  have  fine  weather," 
said  Mrs.  Rose. 

"  I  will  insult  him,"  said  her  black-haired  cousin, 
wildly.  "  I  will  drive  him  from  the  house,"  and  he 
stood  on  tiptoe  and  glared  in  her  face. 

"  No,  no  ;  thou  wilt  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  Agapit." 

"  I  will,"  he  said,  distractedly.  "  I  will,  I  will,  I  will." 

"Agapit,"    said  the  young   woman,  firmly,    "if  it 


AGAFIT,    THE    AC  AD  I  EN.  69 

were  not  for  the  strangers  I  should  have  only  crusts 
for  my  child,  not  good  bread  and  butter,  therefore 
calm  thyself.  Thou  must  be  civil  to  this  stranger." 

"  I  will  not,"  he  said,  sullenly. 

Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte's  temper  gave  way.  "  Pack 
up  thy  clothes,"  she  said,  angrily  ;  "  there  is  no  living 
with  thee,  —  thou  art  so  disagreeable.  Take  thy  old 
trash,  thy  papers  so  old  and  dusty,  and  leave  my  house. 
Thou  wilt  make  me  starve,  —  my  child  will  not  be 
educated.  Go,  —  I  cast  thee  off." 

Agapit  became  calm  as  he  contemplated  her  wrath 
ful,  beautiful  face.  "  Thou  art  like  all  women,"  he  said, 
composedly,  "  a  little  excitable  at  times.  I  am  a 
man,  therefore  I  understand  thee,"  and  pushing  back 
his  coat  he  stuck  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  and  ma 
jestically  resumed  his  walk  about  the  room. 

"Come  now,  cease  thy  crying,"  he  went  on,  uneasily, 
after  a  time,  when  Rose,  who  had  thrown  herself  into 
a  chair  and  had  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  did 
not  look  at  him.  "  I  shall  not  leave  thee,  Rose." 

"  He  is  very  distinguished,"  she  sobbed,  "  very 
polite,  and  his  finger  nails  are  as  white  as  thy  bed 
spread.  He  is  quite  a  gentleman  ;  why  does  he  write 
for  those  wicked  journals  ?  " 

"Thou  hast  been  talking  to  him,  Rose,"  said  her 
cousin,  suspiciously,  stopping  short  and  fixing  her  with 
a  fiery  glance;  "with  thy  usual  innocence  thou  hast 
told  him  all  that  thou  dost  know  and  ever  wilt  know." 


/O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Rose  shuddered,  and  withdrew  her  hands  from  her 
eyes.  "  I  told  him  nothing,  not  a  word." 

"Thou  didst  not  tell  him  of  thy  wish  to  educate 
thy  boy,  of  thy  two  hundred  dollars  in  the  bank, 
of  thy  husband,  who  teased  thy  stepmother  till  she 
married  thee  to  him,  nor  of  me,  for  example  ?  "  and 
his  voice  rose  excitedly. 

His  cousin  was  quite  composed  now.  "  I  told  him 
nothing,"  she  repeated,  firmly. 

"  If  thou  didst  do  so,"  he  continued,  threateningly, 
"  it  will  all  come  out  in  a  newspaper,  — '  Melting 
Innocence  of  an  Acadien  Landlady.  She  Tells  a 
Reporter  in  Five  Minutes  the  Story  of  Her  Life.' ' 

"  It  will  not  appear,"  said  Mrs.  Rose,  hastily. 
"  He  is  a  worthy  young  man,  and  handsome,  too. 
There  is  not  on  the  Bay  a  handsomer  young  man. 
I  will  ask  him  to  write  nothing,  and  he  will  listen 
to  me." 

"  Oh,  thou  false  one,"  cried  the  young  man,  half 
in  vexation,  half  in  perplexity.  "  I  wish  that  thou 
wert  a  child,  —  I  would  shake  thee  till  thy  teeth 
chattered  ! " 

Mrs.  Rose  ran  from  the  room.  "  He  is  a  pig,  an 
imbecile,  and  he  terrifies  me  so  that  I  tell  what  is 
not  true.  What  will  Father  Duvair  say  to  me  ?  I 
will  rise  at  six  to-morrow,  and  go  to  confession." 

Vesper  went  early  to  bed  that  night,  and  slept 
soundly  until  early  the  next  morning,  when  he 


AGAPIT,    THE   AC  AD  I  EN.  /I 

opened  his  eyes  to  a  vision  of  hazy  green  fields,  a 
wide  sheet  of  tremulous  water,  and  a  quiet,  damp 
road,  bordered  by  silent  houses.  He  sprang  from 
his  bed,  and  went  to  the  open  window.  The  sun 
was  just  coming  from  behind  a  bank  of  clouds.  He 
watched  the  Bay  lighting  up  under  its  rays,  the  green 
fields  brightening,  the  moisture  evaporating ;  then 
hastily  throwing  on  his  clothes,  he  went  down-stairs, 
unlatched  the  front  door,  and  hurried  across  the  road 
into  a  hay-field,  where  the  newly  cut  grass,  dripping 
with  moisture,  wet  his  slippered  but  stockingless 
feet. 

Down  by  the  rocks  he  saw  a  small  bathing-house. 
He  slipped  off  his  clothes,  and,  clad  only  in  a  thin 
bathing-suit,  stood  shivering  for  an  instant  at  the 
edge  of  the  water.  "  It  will  be  frightfully  cold,"  he 
muttered.  "Dare  I — yes,  I  do,"  and  he  plunged 
boldly  into  the  deliciously  salt  waves,  and  swam  to 
and  fro,  until  he  was  glowing  from  head  to  foot. 

As  he  was  hurrying  up  to  the  inn,  a  few  minutes 
later,  he  saw,  coming  down  the  road,  a  small  two- 
wheeled  cart,  in  which  was  seated  Mrs.  Rose  a  Char- 
litte.  She  was  driving  a  white  pony,  and  she  sat 
demure,  charming,  with  an  air  of  penitence  about 
her,  and  wearing  the  mourning  garb  of  Acadien 
women,  — -  a  plain  black  dress,  a  black  shawl,  and  a 
black  silk  handkerchief,  drawn  hood-wise  over  her 
flaxen  mop  of  hair  and  tied  under  her  chin. 


72  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

The  young  man  surveyed  her  approvingly.  She 
seemed  to  belong  naturally  to  the  cool,  sweet  damp 
ness -of  the  morning,  and  he  guessed  correctly  that 
she  had  been  to  early  mass  in  the  white  church 
whose  steeple  he  could  see  in  the  distance.  He  was 
amused  with  the  shy,  embarrassed  "Bon  jour" 
(good  morning)  that  she  gave  him  as  she  passed,  and 
murmuring,  "  The  shadow  of  The  Evening  News  is 
still  upon  her,"  he  went  to  his  room,  and  made  his 
toilet  for  breakfast. 

An  hour  later,  a  loud  bell  rang  through  the  house, 
and  Vesper,  in  making  his  way  to  the  dining-room, 
met  a  reserved,  sulky-faced  young  man  in  the  hall, 
who  bowed  coolly  and  stepped  aside  for  him  to 
pass. 

"  H'm,  Agapit  LeNoir,"  reflected  Vesper,  darting 
a  critical  glance  at  him.  "  The  Acadien  who  was  to 
unbosom  himself  to  me.  He  does  not  look  as  if  he 
would  enjoy  the  process,"  and  he  took  his  seat  at  the 
table,  where  Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte,  grown  strangely 
quiet,  served  his  breakfast  in  an  almost  unbroken 
silence. 

Vesper  thoughtfully  poured  some  of  the  thick 
yellow  cream  on  his  porridge,  and  enjoyably  dallied 
over  it,  but  when  his  landlady  would  have  set  before 
him  a  dish  of  smoking  hot  potatoes  and  beefsteak, 
he  said,  "  I  do  not  care  for  anything  further." 

Rose  a  Charlitte   drew  back  in  undisguised   con- 


AGAPIT,    THE    ACADIEN.  73 

cern.  "  But  you  have  eaten  nothing.  Agapit  has 
taken  twice  as  much  as  this." 

"That  is  the  young  man  I  met  just  now?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  my  cousin  ;  very  kind  to  me.  His 
parents  are  dead,  and  he  was  brought  up  by  my  step 
mother.  He  is  so  clever,  so  clever !  It  is  truly 
strange  what  he  knows.  His  uncle,  who  was  a 
priest,  left  him  many  papers,  and  all  day,  when 
Agapit  does  not  work,  he  sits  and  writes  or  reads. 
Some  day  he  will  be  a  learned  man  — 

Rose  paused  abruptly.  In  her  regret  at  the 
stranger's  want  of  appetite  she  was  forgetting  that 
she  had  resolved  to  have  no  further  conversation 
with  him,  and  in  sudden  confusion  she  made  the 
excuse  that  she  wished  to  see  her  child,  and  melted 
away  like  a  snowflake,  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen, 
where  Vesper  had  just  heard  Narcisse's  sweet  voice 
asking  permission  to  talk  to  the  Englishman  from 
Boston. 

The  young  American  wandered  out  to  the  stable. 
Two  Acadiens  were  there,  asking  Agapit  for  the 
loan  of  a  set  of  harness.  At  Vesper's  approach  they 
continued  their  conversation  in  French,  although  he 
had  distinctly  heard  them  speaking  excellent  English 
before  he  joined  them. 

These  men  were  employing  an  almost  new  lan 
guage  to  him.  This  was  not  the  French  of  L1  Evan- 
geline,  of  Doctor  Arseneau,  nor  of  Rose  a  Charlitte. 


74  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Nor  was  it  patois  such  as  he  had  heard  in  France, 
and  which  would  have  been  unintelligible  to  him. 
This  must  be  the  true  Acadien  dialect,  and  he  lis 
tened  with  pleasure  to  the  softening  and  sweetening 
of  some  syllables  and  the  sharpening  and  ruining  of 
others.  They  were  saying  ung  houmme,  for  a  man. 
This  was  not  unmusical ;  neither  was  persounne,  for 
nobody  ;  but  the  ang  sound  so  freely  interspersing 
their  sentences  was  detestable  ;  as  was  also  the  reck 
less  introduction  of  English  phrases,  such  as  "all 
right,"  "you  bet,"  "how  queer,"  "too  proud," 
"funny,"  "steam-cars,"  and  many  others. 

Their  conversation  for  some  time  left  the  stable, 
then  it  returned  along  the  line  of  discussion  of  a 
glossy  black  horse  that  stood  in  one  of  the  stalls. 

"  Ce  cheval  est  de  bounne  liarage"  (this  horse  is 
well-bred),  said  one  of  the  Acadiens,  admiringly,  and 
Vesper's  thoughts  ran  back  to  a  word  in  the  Latin 
grammar  of  his  boyhood.  Ham,  a  pen  or  stable. 
De  bonne  race,  a  modern  Frenchman  would  be  likely 
to  say.  Probably  these  men  were  speaking  the  lan 
guage  brought  by  their  ancestors  to  Acadie  ;  without 
doubt  they  were.  On  this  Bay  would  be  presented 
to  him  the  curious  spectacle  of  the  descendants  of 
a  number  of  people  lifted  bodily  out  of  France,  and 
preserving  in  their  adopted  country  the  tongue  that 
had  been  lost  to  the  motherland.  In  France  the 
language  had  drifted.  Here  the  Acadiens  were 


,   AGAPIT,    THE   AC  ADI  EN.  75 

using  the  same  syllables  that  had  hung  on  the  lips  of 
kings,  courtiers,  poets,  and  wits  of  three  and  four 
hundred  years  ago. 

With  keen  interest,  for  he  had  a  passion  for  the 
study  of  languages,  he  carefully  analyzed  each  sen 
tence  that  he  heard,  until,  fearing  that  his  attitude 
might  seem  impertinent  to  the  Acadiens,  he  strolled 
away. 

His  feet  naturally  turned  in  the  direction  of  the 
corner,  the  most  lively  spot  in  Sleeping  Water.  In 
the  blacksmith's  shop  a  short,  stout  young  Acadien 
with  light  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  a  dirty  face  and  arms, 
was  striking  the  red-hot  tip  of  a  pickax  with  ringing 
blows.  He  nodded  civilly  enough  to  Vesper  when 
he  joined  the  knot  of  men  who  stood  about  the  wide 
door  watching  him,  but  no  one  else  spoke  to  him. 

A  farmer  was  waiting  to  have  a  pair  of  cream 
white  oxen  shod,  a  stable-keeper,  from  another  part 
of  la  I'ille  franqaisc,  was  impatiently  chafing  and 
fretting  over  the  amount  of  time  required  to  mend 
his  sulky  wheel,  and  conversing  with  him  were  two 
well-dressed  young  men,  who  appeared  to  be  Aca 
diens  from  abroad  spending  their  holidays  at  home. 

Vesper's  arrival  had  the  effect  of  dispersing  the 
little  group.  The  stable-man  moved  away  to  his 
sulky,  as  if  he  preferred  the  vicinity  of  his  roan 
horse,  who  gazed  at  him  so  benevolently,  to  that  of 
Vesper,  who  surveyed  him  so  indifferently.  The 


76  A'OS£   A    CHARLITTE. 

farmer  entered  the  shop  and  sat  down  on  a  box  in 
a  dark  corner,  while  the  Acadien  young  men,  after 
cold  glances  at  the  newcomer,  moved  away  to  the 
post-office. 

After  a  time  Vesper  remembered  that  he  must 
have  some  Canadian  stamps,  and  followed  them. 
Outside  the  .shop  five  or  six  teams  were  lined  up. 
They  were  on  their  way  to  the  wharf  below,  and 
were  loaded  with  more  of  the  enormous  trees  that 
he  had  seen  the  day  before.  Probably  their  sturdy 
strength,  hoarded  through  long  years  in  Acadien 
forests,  would  be  devoted  to  the  support  of  some 
warehouse  or  mansion  in  his  native  Puritan  city, 
whose  founders  had  called  so  loudly  for  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  French. 

Vesper  cast  a  regretful  glance  in  the  direction  of 
the  trees,  and  entered  the  little  shop,  whose  well- 
stocked  shelves  were  full  of  rolls  of  cotton  and 
flannel,  and  boxes  of  groceries,  confectionery,  and 
stationery.  The  drivers  of  the  ox-teams  were  inside, 
doing  their  shopping.  They  were  somewhat  rougher 
in  appearance  than  the  inhabitants  of  Sleeping  Water, 
and  were  louder  and  noisier  in  their  conversation. 
Vesper  saw  a  young  Acadien  whisper  a  few  words 
to  one  of  them,  and  the  teamster  in  return  scowled 
fiercely  at  him,  and  muttered  something  about  "  a 
goddam  Yankee." 

The  young  American   stared  coolly  at  him,  and, 


AGAPIT,    THE   ACADIEN.  77 

going  up  to  the  counter,  purchased  his  stamps  from 
a  fat  man  in  shirt-sleeves,  who  served  him  with  ex 
quisite  and  distant  courtesy.  Then,  leaving  the 
shop,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  went  back 
the  way  he  had  come,  murmuring,  in  amused  curios 
ity,  "  I  must  solve  this  mystery  of  The  Evening 
News.  My  friend  Agapit  is  infecting  all  who  come 
within  the  circle  of  his  influence." 

He  walked  on  past  the  inn,  staring  with  interest 
at  the  houses  bordering  the  road.  A  few  were  very 
small,  a  few  very  old.  He  could  mark  the  transi 
tion  of  a  family  in  some  cases  from  their  larval  state 
in  a  low,  gray,  caterpillar-like  house  of  one  story  to 
a  gay-winged  butterfly  home  of  two  or  three  stories. 
However,  on  the  whole,  the  dwellings  were  nearly 
all  of  the  same  size,  —  there  were  no  sharp  distinc 
tions  between  rich  and  poor.  He  saw  no  peasants, 
no  pampered  landlords.  These  Acadiens  all  seemed 
to  be  small  farmers,  and  all  were  on  an  equality. 

The  creaking  of  an  approaching  team  caught  his 
attention.  It  was  drawn  by  a  pair  of  magnificent  red 
oxen,  groomed  as  carefully  as  if  they  had  been 
horses,  and  beside  them  walked  an  old  man,  who  was 
holding  an  ejaculatory  conversation  with  them  in 
English  ;  for  the  Acadiens  of  the  Bay  Saint-Mary 
always  address  their  oxen  and  horses  as  if  they  be 
longed  to  the  English  race. 

"  I  wonder  whether  this  worthy  man  in  homespun 


78  XOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

has  been  informed  that  I  am  a  kind  of  leper,"  reflected 
Vesper,  as  he  uttered  a  somewhat  guarded  "Bon 
jour." 

"  Bon  jour"  said  the  old  man,  delightedly,  and  he 
halted  and  admonished  his  companions  to  do  the 
same. 

"77  fait  beau"  (it  is  a  fine  day),  pursued  Vesper, 
cautiously. 

"Out,  mais  je  crais  qu'il  va  mouiller"  (yes,  but  I 
think  it  is  going  to  rain),  said  the  Acadien,  with  gen 
tle  affability  ;  then  he  went  on,  apologetically,  and  in 
English,  "I  do  not  speak  the  good  French." 

"It  is  the  best  of  French,"  said  Vesper,  "for  it  is 
old." 

"And  you,"  continued  the  old  man,  not  to  be  out 
done  in  courtesy,  "you  speak  like  the  sisters  of  St. 
Joseph  who  once  called  at  my  house.  Their  words 
were  like  round  pebbles  dropping  from  their  mouths." 

Vesper  smoothed  his  mustache,  and  glanced 
kindly  at  his  aged  companion,  who  proceeded  to  ask 
him  whether  he  was  staying  at  the  inn.  "  Ah,  it  is 
a  good  inn,"  he  went  on,  "and  Rose  a  Charlitte  is 
trh-smart,  trh-smart.  Perhaps  you  do  not  under 
stand  my  English,"  he  added,  when  Vesper  did  not 
reply  to  him. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  find  that  you  speak  admi 
rably." 

"You  are  kind,"   said  the  old   man,  shaking  his 


AGAPIT,    THE   ACADIEN.  79 

head,  "  but  my  English  langwidge  is  spiled  since  my 
daughter  went  to  Bostons,  for  I  talk  to  no  one.  She 
married  an  Irish  boy  ;  he  is  a  nusser." 

"  An  usher,  —  in  a  theatre  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  in  a  cross-spittal.  He  nusses  sick  peo 
ple,  and  gets  two  dollars  a  day." 

"  Oh,  indeed." 

"  Do  you  come  from  Bostons  ? "  asked  the  old 
man. 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  And  do  you  know  my  daughter  ?  " 

'  What  is  her  name  ?  " 

The  Acadien  reflected  for  some  time,  then  said  it 
was,  MacCraw,  whereupon  Vesper  assured  him  that 
he  had  never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  her. 

"  Is  your  trade  an  easy  one  ?  "  asked  the  old  man, 
wistfully. 

"  No  ;  very  hard." 

"You  are  then  a  farmer." 

"  No  ;  I  wish  I  were.  My  trade  is  taking  care  of 
my  health." 

The  Acadien  examined  him  from  head  to  foot. 
"  Your  face  is  beautifuller  than  a  woman's,  but  you 
are  poorly  built." 

Vesper  drew  up  his  straight  and  slender  figure. 
He  was  not  surprised  that  it  did  not  come  up  to  the 
Acadien's  standard  of  manly  beauty. 

"  Let  us  shake  hands  lest  we  never  meet  again," 


8O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

said  the  old  man,  so  gently,  so  kindly,  and  with  so 
much  benevolence,  that  Vesper  responded,  warmly, 
"  I  hope  to  see  you  some  other  time." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  call.  We  are  but  poor,  yet  if  it 
would  please  you  — 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy.      Where  do  you  live  ? " 

"  Near  the  low  down  brook,  way  off  there.  De 
mand  Antoine  a  Joe  Rimbaut,"  and,  smiling  and 
nodding  farewell,  the  old  man  moved  on. 

"A  good  heart,"  said  Vesper,  looking  after  him. 

"Caw,  caw,"  said  a  solemn  voice  at  his  elbow. 

He  turned  around.  One  of  the  blackest  of  crows 
sat  on  a  garden  fence  that  surrounded  a  neat  pink 
cottage.  The  cottage  was  itself  smothered  in  lilacs, 
whose  fragrant  blossoms  were  in  their  prime,  al 
though  the  Boston  lilacs  had  long  since  faded  and 
died. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,  sir,"  said  a  woman  in  the  inev 
itable  handkerchief,  who  jumped  up  from  a  flower  bed 
that  she  was  weeding,  "  he  is  quite  tame." 

"  Un  corbeau  apprivoise"  (a  tame  crow),  said  Ves 
per,  lifting  his  cap. 

"  Un  corbeau  pri?>c\  we  say,"  she  replied,  shyly. 
"  You  speak  the  good  French,  like  the  priests  out  of 
France." 

She  was  not  a  very  young  woman,  nor  was  she 
very  pretty,  but  she  was  delightfully  modest  and 
retiring  in  her  manner,  and  Vesper,  leaning  against 


AGAPIT,    THE   ACADIEN.  8 1 

the  fence,  assured  her  that  he  feared  the  Acadiens 
were  lacking  in  a  proper  appreciation  of  their  ability 
to  speak  their  own  language. 

After  a  time  he  looked  over  the  fields  behind  her 
cottage,  and  asked  the  name  of  a  church  crowning 
a  hill  in  the  distance. 

"It  is  the  Saulnierville  church,"  she  replied,  "but 
you  must  not  walk  so  far.  You  will  stay  to  dinner  ?  " 

While  Vesper  was  politely  declining  her  invita 
tion,  a  Frenchman  with  a  long,  pointed  nose,  and 
bright,  sharp  eyes,  came  around  the  corner  of  the 
house. 

"  He  is  my  husband,"  said  the  woman.  "  Edouard, 
this  gentleman  speaks  the  good  French." 

The  Acadien  warmly  seconded  the  invitation  of 
his  wife  that  Vesper  should  stay  to  dinner,  but  he 
escaped  from  them  with  smiling  thanks  and  a  prom 
ise  to  come  another  day. 

"They  never  saw  me  before,  and  they  asked  me 
to  stay  to  dinner.  That  is  true  hospitality,  —  they 
have  not  been  infected.  I  will  make  my  way  back 
to  the  inn,  and  interview  that  sulky  beggar." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

VESPER    SUGGESTS    AN    EXPLANATION. 

"  Glad  of  a  quarrel  straight  I  clap  the  door; 
Sir,  let  me  see  you  and  your  works  no  more." 

POPE. 

AT  twelve  o'clock  Mrs.  Rose  a  Charlitte  was 
standing  in  her  cold  pantry  deftly  putting  a  cap 
of  icing  on  a  rich  rounded  loaf  of  cake,  when  she 
heard  a  question  asked,  in  Vesper's  smooth  neutral 
tones,  "  Where  is  madame  ?  " 

She  stepped  into  the  kitchen,  and  found  that  he 
was  interrogating  her  servant  Celina. 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  that  young  man  I  saw 
this  morning,"  he  said,  when  he  saw  her. 

"  He  has  gone  out,  monsieur,"  she  replied,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation. 

"  Which  is  his  room  ?  " 

"The  one  by  the  smoking-room,"  she  answered, 
with  a  deep  blush. 

Vesper's  white  teeth  gleamed  through  his  dark 
mustache,  and,  seeing  that  he  was  laughing  at  her, 
she  grew  confused,  and  hung  her  head. 

"Can  I  get  to  it  by  this  staircase  ? "  asked  Vesper, 
82 


VESPER   SUGGESTS  AN  EXPLANATION.         83 

exposing  her  petty  deceit.  "  I  think  I  can  by  going 
up  to  the  roof,  and  dropping  down." 

Mrs.  Rose  lifted  her  head  long  enough  to  flash 
him  a  scrutinizing  glance.  Then,  becoming  sen 
sible  of  the  determination  of  purpose  under  his 
indifference  of  manner,  she  said,  in  scarcely  audible 
tones,  "  I  will  show  you." 

"  I  have  only  a  simple  question  to  ask  him,"  said 
Vesper,  reassuringly,  as  he  followed  her  towards  the 
staircase. 

"  Agapit  is  quick  like  lightning,"  she  said,  over  her 
shoulder,  "  but  his  heart  is  good.  He  helps  to  keep 
our  grandmother,  who  spends  her  days  in  bed." 

"  That  is  exemplary.  I  would  be  the  last  one  to 
hurt  the  feelings  of  the  prop  of  an  aged  person," 
murmured  Vesper. 

Rose  a  Charlitte  was  not  satisfied.  She  unwill 
ingly  mounted  the  stairs,  and  pointed  out  the  door 
of  her  cousin's  room,  then  withdrew  to  the  next  one, 
and  listened  anxiously  in  case  there  might  be  some 
disturbance  between  the  young  men.  There  was 
none  ;  so,  after  a  time,  she  went  down-stairs. 

Agapit,  at  Vesper's  entrance,  abruptly  pushed 
back  his  chair  from  the  table  and,  rising,  pre 
sented  a  red  and  angry  face  to  his  visitor. 

"  I  have  interrupted  you,  I  fear,"  said  Vesper, 
smoothly.  "  I  will  not  detain  you  long.  I  merely 
wish  to  ask  a  question." 


84  KOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Will  you  sit  down  ?  "  said  Agapit,  sulkily,  and  he 
forced  himself  to  offer  the  most  comfortable  chair  in 
the  room  to  his  caller. 

Vesper  did  not  seat  himself  until  he  saw  that 
Agapit  was  prepared  to  follow  his  example.  Then 
he  looked  into  the  black  eyes  of  the  Acadien,  which 
were  like  two  of  the  deep,  dark  pools  in  the  forest, 
and  said,  "  A  matter  of  business  has  brought  me  to 
this  Bay.  I  may  have  some  inquiries  to  make,  in 
which  I  would  find  myself  hampered  by  any  preju 
dice  among  persons  I  might  choose  to  question.  I 
fancy  that  some  of  the  people  here  look  on  me 
with  suspicion.  I  am  quite  unaware  of  having  given 
offence  in  any  way.  Possibly  you  can  explain,  —  I 
am  not  bent  on  an  explanation,  you  understand. 
If  you  choose  to  offer  one,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
listen." 

He  spoke  listlessly,  tapping  on  the  table  with  his 
ringers,  and  allowing  his  eyes  to  wander  around 
the  room,  rather  than  to  remain  fixed  on  Agapit' s 
face. 

The  young  Acadien  could  scarcely  restrain  a  tor 
rent  of  words  until  Vesper  had  finished  speaking. 

"  Since  you  ask,  I  will  explain,  —  yes,  I  will  not 
be  silent.  We  are  not  rude  here,  —  oh,  no.  We 
are  too  kind  to  strangers.  Vipers  have  crept  in 
among  us.  They  have  stolen  heat  and  warmth 
from  our  bosoms  "  —he  paused,  choking  with  rage. 


VESPER  SUGGESTS  AN  EXPLANATION.         85 

"  And  you  have  reason  to  suppose  that  I  may 
prove  a  viper  ? "  asked  Vesper,  indolently. 

"  Yes,  you  also  are  one.       You   come  here,   we 

receive  you.     You  depart,  you  laugh  in  your  sleeve, 

—  a  newspaper  comes.     We  see  it  all.     The  meek 

and  patient  Acadiens  are  once  more  held  up  to  be  a 

laughing-stock." 

Vesper  wrinkled  his  level  eyebrows.  "  Perhaps 
you  will  characterize  this  viperish  conduct  ? " 

Agapit  calmed  himself  slightly.  "  Wait  but  an 
instant.  Control  your  curiosity,  and  I  will  give  you 
something  to  read,"  and  he  went  on  his  knees,  and 
rummaged  among  some  loose  papers  in  an  open  box. 
"  Look  at  it,"  he  said,  at  last,  springing  up  and 
handing  his  caller  a  newspaper ;  "  read,  and  possibly 
you  will  understand." 

Vesper's  quick  eye  ran  over  the  sheet  that  he 
held  up.  "This  is  a  New  York  weekly  paper. 
Yes,  I  know  it  well.  What  is  there  here  that 
concerns  you  ? " 

"Look,  look  here,"  said  Agapit,  tapping  a  column 
in  the  paper  with  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Read  the 
nonsense,  the  drivel,  the  insanity  of  the  thing  — 

"  Ah,  —  '  Among  the  Acadiens,  Quaintness  Un 
rivalled,  Archaic  Forms  of  Speech,  A  Dance  and 
a  Wedding,  The  Spirit  of  Evangeline,  Humorous 
Traits,  If  You  Wish  a  Good  Laugh  Go  Among 
Them  ! '  " 


86  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

"  She  laughed  in  print,  she  screamed  in  black  ink  !  " 
exclaimed  Agapit.  "  The  silly  one,  —  the  witch." 

"Who  was  she, — this  lady  viper?"  asked  Vesper, 
briefly. 

"  She  was  a  woman  —  a  newspaper  woman.  She 
spent  a  summer  among  us.  She  gloomed  about  the 
beach  with  a  shawl  on  her  shoulders  ;  a  small  dog 
followed  her.  She  laid  in  bed.  She  read  novels, 
and  then,"  he  continued,  with  rising  voice,  "  she  re 
turned  home,  she  wrote  this  detestability  about  us." 

"Why  need  you  care?"  said  Vesper,  coolly. 
"  She  had  to  reel  off  a  certain  amount  of  copy. 
All  correspondents  have  to  do  so.  She  only  touched 
up  things  a  little  to  make  lively  reading." 

"  Not  touching  up,  but  manufacturing,"  retorted 
Agapit,  with  blazing  eyes.  "  She  had  nothing  to  go 
on,  nothing —  nothing  —  nothing.  We  are  just  like 
other  people,"  and  he  ruffled  his  coal-black  hair  with 
both  his  hands,  and  looked  at  his  caller  fiercely. 
"  Do  you  not  find  us  so  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Vesper,  so  dispassionately 
and  calmly,  and  with  such  statuesque  repose  of 
manner,  that  he  seemed  rather  to  breathe  the  words 
than  to  form  them  with  his  lips. 

"  And  you  will  express  that  in  your  paper.  You 
will  not  tell  the  truth.  My  countrymen  will  .never 
have  justice,  —  never,  never.  They  are  always  mis 
represented,  always." 


VESPER  SUGGESTS  AN  EXPLANATION.         87 

"What  a  firebrand!"  reflected  Vesper,  and  he 
surveyed,  with  some  animation,  the  inflamed,  sus 
picious  face  of  the  Frenchman. 

"  You  also  will  caricature  us,"  pursued  Agapit ; 
"others  have  done  so,  why  should  not  you?" 

Vesper's  lips  parted.  He  was  on  the  point  of 
imparting  to  Agapit  the  story  of  his  great-grand 
father's  letter.  Then  he  closed  them.  Why  should 
he  be  browbeaten  into  communicating  his  private 
affairs  to  a  stranger  ? 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  and  he  rose  to  leave  the 
room.  "  I  am  obliged  for  the  information  you  have 
given  me." 

Agapit's  face  darkened  ;  he  would  dearly  love  to 
secure  a  promise  of  good  behavior  from  this  stranger, 
who  was  so  non-committal,  so  reserved,  and  yet  so 
strangely  attractive. 

"  See,"  he  said,  grandly,  and  flinging  his  hand  in 
the  direction  of  his  books  and  papers.  "  To  an 
honest  man,  really  interested  in  my  people,  I  would 
be  pleased  to  give  information.  I  have  many  docu 
ments,  many  books." 

"  Ah,  you  take  an  interest  in  this  sort  of  thing," 
said  Vesper. 

"  An  interest  —  I  should  die  without  my  books 
and  papers  ;  they  are  my  life." 

"  And  yet  you  were  cut  out  for  a  farmer,"  thought 
Vesper,  as  he  surveyed  Agapit's  sturdy  frame.  "  I 


88  A'OS£   A    CHARLITTE. 

suppose  you  have  the  details  of  the  expulsion  at 
your  fingers'  ends,"  he  said,  aloud. 

"  Ah,  the  expulsion,"  muttered  Agapit,  turning 
deathly  pale,  "the  abominable,  damnable  expulsion  !  " 

"Your  feelings  run  high  on  the  subject,"  mur 
mured  Vesper. 

"  It  suffocates  me,  it  chokes  me,  when  I  reflect 
how  it  was  brought  about.  You  know,  of  course, 
that  in  the  eighteenth  century  there  flourished  a 
devil,  —no,  not  a  devil,"  contemptuously.  "What  is 
that  for  a  word  ?  Devil,  devil,  —  it  is  so  common 
that  there  is  no  badness  in  it.  Even  the  women  say, 
'Poor  devil,  I  pity  him.'  Say,  rather,  there  was  a 
god  of  infamy,  the  blackest,  the  basest,  the  most 
infernal  of  created  beings  that  our  Lord  ever  per 
mitted  to  pollute  this  earth  — 

For  a  minute  he  became  incoherent,  then  he 
caught  his  breath.  "  This  demon,  this  arch-fiend, 
the  misbegotten  Lawrence  that  your  historian  Park- 
man  sets  himself  to  whitewash  — 

"I  know  of  Parkman,"  said  Vesper,  coldly,  "he 
was  once  a  neighbor  of  ours." 

"Was  he!"  exclaimed  Agapit,  in  a  paroxysm  of 
excitement.  "  A  fine  neighbor,  a  worthy  man  !  Park 
man, —  the  New  England  story-teller,  the  traducer, 
who  was  too  careless  to  set  himself  to  the  task  of 
investigating  records." 

Vesper  was  not  prepared  to  hear  any  abuse  of  his 


VESPER  SUGGESTS  AN  EXPLANATION.      89 

countryman,  and,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  left  the 
room,  while  Agapit,  furious  to  think  that,  unasked, 
he  hadt  been  betrayed  into  furnishing  a  newspaper 
correspondent  with  some  crumbs  of  information  that 
might  possibly  be  dished  up  in  appetizing  form  for 
the  delectation  of  American  readers,  slammed  the 
door  behind  him,  and  went  back  to  his  writing. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

A    DEADLOCK. 

"  I  found  the  fullest  summer  here 

Between  these  sloping  meadow-hills  and  yon ; 
And  came  all  beauty  then,  from  dawn  to  dawn, 
Whether  the  tide  was  veiled  or  flowing  clear." 

J.  F.  H. 

THREE  days  later,  Vesper  had  only  two  friends  in 
Sleeping  Water,  —  that  is,  only  two  open  friends. 
He  knew  he  had  a  secret  one  in  Mrs.  Rose  a  Char- 
litte,  who  waited  on  him  with  the  air  of  a  sorrowing 
saint. 

The  open  friends  were  the  child  Narcisse,  and 
Emmanuel  Victor  de  la  Rive,  the  mail-driver.  Rose 
could  not  keep  her  child  away  from  the  handsome 
stranger.  Narcisse  had  fallen  into  a  passionate 
adoration  for  him,  and  even  in  his  dreams  prattled  of 
the  Englishman  from  Boston. 

On  the  third  night  of  Vesper's  stay  in  Sleeping 
Water  a  violent  thunder-storm  arose.  Lying  in  his 
bed  and  watching  the  weird  lighting  up  of  the  Bay 
under  the  vivid  discharges  of  electricity,  he  heard  a 
fumbling  at  his  door-knob,  and,  upon  unlocking  the 

90 


A    DEADLOCK.  91 

door,  discovered  Narcisse,  pale  and  seraphic,  in  a 
long  white  nightgown,  and  with  beads  of  distress 
on  his  forehead. 

"  Mr.  Englishman,"  he  said  to  Vesper,  who  now 
understood  his  childish  lingo,  "  I  come  to  you,  for 
my  mother  sleeps  soundly,  and  she  cannot  tell  me 
when  she  wakes,  —  the  trees  and  the  flowers,  are 
they  not  in  a  terrible  fright?"  and,  holding  up  his 
gown  with  one  hand,  he  went  swiftly  to  the  window, 
and  pointed  out  towards  the  willows,  writhing  and 
twisting  in  the  wind,  and  the  gentle  flowers  laid  low 
on  the  earth. 

A  yellow  glare  lighted1  up  the  room,  a  terrible  peal 
of  thunder  shook  the  house,  but  the  child  did  not 
quail,  and  stood  waiting  for  an  answer  to  his  ques 
tion. 

"Come  here,"  said  Vesper,  calmly,  "and  I  will 
explain  to  you  that  the  thunder  does  not  hurt  them, 
and  that  they  have  a  way  of  bending  before  the 
blast." 

Narcisse  immediately  drew  his  pink  heels  up  over 
the  side  of  Vesper's  bed.  He  was  unspeakably 
soothed  by  the  merest  word  of  this  stranger,  in 
whose  nervous  sensitiveness  and  reserve  he  found  a 
spirit  more  congenial  to  his  own  than  in  that  of  his 
physically  perfect  mother. 

Vesper  talked  to  him  for  some  time,  and  the  child 
at  last  fell  asleep,  his  tiny  hand  clasping  a  scapulary 


92  XOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

on  his  breast,  his  pretty  lips  murmuring  to  the  pic 
ture  on  it,  "  Good  St.  Joseph,  Mr.  Englishman  says 
that  only  a  few  of  the  trees  and  flowers  are  hurt  by 
the  storm.  Watch  over  the  little  willows  and  the 
small  lilies  while  I  sleep,  and  do  not  let  them  be 
harmed." 

Vesper  at  first  patiently  and  kindly  endured  the 
pressure  of  the  curly  head  laid  on  his  arm.  He  would 
like  to  have  a  beautiful  child  like  this  for  his  own. 
Then  thoughts  of  his  childhood  began  to  steal  over 
him.  He  remembered  climbing  into  his  father's  bed, 
gazing  worshipfully  into  his  face,  and  stroking  his 
handsome  head. 

"  O  God,  my  father  !  "  he  muttered,  "  I  have  lost 
him,"  and,  unable  to  endure  the  presence  of  the 
child,  he  softly  waked  him.  "  Go  back  to  your 
mother,  Narcisse.  She  may  miss  you." 

The  child  sleepny  obeyed  him,  and  went  to  con 
tinue  his  dreams  by  his  mother's  side,  while  Vesper 
lay  awake  until  the  morning,  a  prey  to  recollections 
at  once  tender  and  painful. 

Vesper's  second  friend,  the  mail-driver,  never 
failed  to  call  on  him  every  morning.  If  one  could 
put  a  stamp  on  a  letter  it  was  permissible  at  any 
point  on  the  route  to  call,  "  Arrete-toi"  (stop),  to  the 
crimson  flying  bird.  If  one  could  not  stamp  a  letter, 
it  was  illegal  to  detain  him. 

Vesper  never  had,  however,   to  call   "  Arr$te-toi" 


A   DEADLOCK.  93 

Of  his  own  accord  Emmanuel  Victor  de  la  Rive, 
upon  arriving  before  the  inn,  would  fling  the  reins 
over  his  pony's  back,  and  spring  nimbly  out.  He 
was  sure  to  find  Vesper  lolling  on  the  seat  under  the 
willows,  or  lying  in  the  hammock,  with  Narcisse 
somewhere  near,  whereupon  he  would  seat  himself 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  in  his  own  courteous  and 
curious  way  would  ask  various  and  sundry  questions 
of  this  stranger,  who  had  fascinated  him  almost  as 
completely  as  he  had  Narcisse. 

On  the  morning  after  the  thunder-storm  he  had 
fallen  into  an  admiration  of  Vesper's  beautiful  white 
teeth.  Were  they  all  his  own,  and  not  artificial  ? 
With  such  teeth  he  could  marry  any  woman.  He 
was  a  bachelor  now,  was  he  not  ?  Did  he  always 
intend  to  remain  one  ?  How  much  longer  would  he 
stay  in  Sleeping  Water  ?  And  Vesper,  parrying  his 
questions  with  his  usual  skill,  sent  him  away  with  his 
ears  full  of  polite  sentences  that,  when  he  came  to 
analyze  them,  conveyed  not  a  single  item  of  informa 
tion  to  his  surprised  brain. 

However,  he  felt  no  resentment  towards  Vesper. 
His  admiration  rose  superior  to  any  rebuffs.  It  even 
soared  above  the  warning  intimations  he  received 
from  many  Acadiens  to  the  effect  that  he  was  laying 
himself  open  to  hostile  criticism  by  his  intercourse 
with  the  enemy  within  the  camp. 

Vesper  was  amused  by  him,  and  on  this  particular 


94  XOSE  A    CHARLITl^E. 

morning,  after  he  left,  he  lay  back  in  the  hammock, 
his  mind  enjoyably  dwelling  on  the  characteristics  of 
the  volatile  Acadien. 

Narcisse,  who  stood  beside  him  in  the  centre 
of  the  bare  spot  on  the  lawn,  by  the  hammock,  in 
vain  begged  for  a  story,  and  at  last,  losing  patience, 
knelt  down  and  put  his  head  to  the  ground.  The 
Englishman  had  told  him  that  each  grass-blade  came 
up  from  the  earth  with  a  tale  on  the  tip  of  its  quiver 
ing  tongue,  and  that  all  might  hear  who  bent  an  ear 
to  listen.  Narcisse  wished  to  get  news  of  the  storm 
in  the  night,  and  really  fancied  that  the  grass-blades 
told  him  it  had  prevailed  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 
He  sprang  up  to  impart  the  news  to  Vesper,  and 
Agapit,  who  was  passing  down  the  lane  by  the  house 
to  the  street,  scowled,  disapprovingly,  at  the  pretty, 
wagging  head  and  animated  gestures. 

Vesper  gazed  after  him,  and  paid  no  attention  to 
Narcisse.  "  I  wonder,"  he  murmured,  languidly, 
"  what  spell  holds  me  in  the  neighborhood  of  this 
Acadien  demagogue  who  has  turned  his  following 
against  me.  It  must  be  the  Bay,"  and  in  a  trance 
of  pleasure  he  surveyed  its  sparkling  surface. 

Always  beautiful,  —  never  the  same.  Was  ever 
another  sheet  of  water  so  wholly  charming,  was 
ever  another  occupation  so  fitted  for  unstrung  nerves 
as  this  placid  watching  of  its  varying  humors  and 
tumults  ? 


A    DEADLOCK.  95 

This  morning  it  was  like  crystal.  A  fleet  of  small 
boats  was  dancing  out  to  the  deep  sea  fishing- 
grounds,  and  three  brown-sailed  schooners  were 
gliding  up  the  Bay  to  mysterious  waters  unknown 
to  him.  As  soon  as  he  grew  stronger,  he  must  fol 
low  them  up  to  the  rolling  country  and  the  fertile 
fields  beyond  Sleeping  Water.  Just  now  the  mere 
thought  of  leaving  the  inn  filled  him  with  nervous 
apprehension,  and  he  started  painfully  and  irritably 
as  the  sharp  clang  of  the  dinner-bell  rang  out  through 
the  open  windows  of  the  house. 

Followed  by  Narcisse,  he  sauntered  to  the  table, 
where  he  caused  Rose  a  Charlitte's  heart  a  succes 
sion  of  pangs  and  anxieties. 

"He  does  not  like  my  cooking;  he  eats  nothing," 
she  said,  mournfully,  to  Agapit,  who  was  taking 
a  substantial  dinner  at  the  kitchen  table. 

"  I  wish  that  he  would  go  away,"  said  Agapit,  "  I 
hate  his  insolent  face." 

"  But  he  is  not  insolent,"  said  Rose,  pleadingly. 
"It  is  only  that  he  does  not  care  for  us  ;  he  is  likely 
rich,  and  we  are  but  poor." 

"Do  many  millionaires  come  to  thy  quiet  inn?" 
asked  Agapit,  ironically. 

Rose  reluctantly  admitted  that,  so  far,  her  patrons 
had  not  been  people  of  wealth. 

"He  is  probably  a  beggar,"  said  Agapit.  "He 
has  paid  thee  nothing  yet.  I  dare  say  he  has  only 


96  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

old  clothes  in  that  trunk  of  his.  Perhaps  he  was 
forced  to  leave  his  home.  He  intends  to  spend  the 
rest  of  his  life  here." 

"If  he  would  work,"  said  Rose,  timidly,  "he 
could  earn  his  board.  If  thou  goest  away,  I  shall 
need  a  man  for  the  stable." 

"Look  at  his  white  hands,"  said  Agapit,  "he  is 
lazy,  —  and  dost  thou  think  I  would  leave  thee  with 
that  young  sprig  ?  His  character  may  be  of  the 
worst.  What  do  we  know  of  him  ? "  and  he  tramped 
out  to  the  stable,  while  Mrs.  Rose  confusedly  with 
drew  to  her  pantry. 

An  hour  later,  while  Agapit  was  grooming  Too- 
chune,  the  thoroughbred  black  horse  that  was  the 
wonder  of  the  Bay,  Narcisse  came  and  stood  in  the 
stable  door,  and  for  a  long  time  silently  watched 
him. 

Then  he  heaved  a  small  sigh.  He  was  thinking 
neither  of  the  horse  nor  of  Agapit,  and  said,  wistfully, 
"  The  Englishman  from  Boston  sleeps  as  well  as  my 
mother.  I  have  tried  to  wake  him,  but  I  cannot." 

Agapit  paid  no  attention  to  him,  but  the  matter 
was  weighing  on  the  child's  mind,  and  after  a  time 
he  continued,  "  His  face  is  very  white,  as  white  as 
the  breast  of  the  ducks." 

"  His  face  is  always  white,"  growled  Agapit. 

Narcisse  went  away,  and  sat  patiently  down  by  the 
hammock,  while  Agapit,  who  kept  an  eye  on  him 


A    DEADLOCK.  97 

despite  himself,  took  occasion  a  little  later  to  go  to 
the  garden,  ostensibly  to  mend  a  hole  in  the  fence, 
in  reality  to  peer  through  the  willows  at  Vesper. 

What  he  saw  caused  him  to  drop  his  knife,  and 
go  to  the  well,  where  Celina  was  drawing  a  bucket 
of  water. 

"The  Englishman  has  fainted,"  he  said,  and  he 
took  the  bucket  from  her.  Celina  ran  after  him,  and 
watched  him  thrust  Narcisse  aside  and  dash  a  hand 
ful  of  water  in  Vesper's  marble,  immobile  face. 

Narcisse  raised  one  of  his  tiny  fists  and  struck 
Agapit  a  smart  blow,  and,  in  spite  of  their  concern 
for  the  Englishman,  both  the  grown  people  turned 
and  stared  in  surprise  at  him.  For  the  first  time 
they  saw  the  sweet-tempered  child  in  a  rage. 

"Go  away,"  he  said,  in  a  choking  voice,  "you 
shall  not  hurt  him." 

"Hush,  little  rabbit,"  said  the  young  man.  "I 
try  to  do  him  good.  Christophe  !  Christophe  !  "  and 
he  hailed  an  Acadien  who  was  passing  along  the 
road.  "  Come  assist  me  to  carry  the  Englishman 
into  the  house.  This  is  something  worse  than  a 
faint." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

ON    THE    SUDDEN    SOMETHING    ILL. 

"  Dull  days  had  hung  like  curtained  mysteries, 
And  nights  were  weary  with  the  starless  skies. 
At  once  came  life,  and  fire,  and  joys  untold, 
And  promises  for  violets  to  unfold  ; 
And  every  breeze  had  shreds  of  melodies, 

So  faint  and  sweet." 

J.  F.  HERBIN. 

ONE  midnight,  three  weeks  later,  when  perfect 
silence  and  darkness  brooded  over  Sleeping  Water, 
and  the  only  lights  burning  were  the  stars  up  aloft, 
and  two  lamps  in  two  windows  of  the  inn,  Vesper 
opened  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him. 

He  saw  for  some  dreamy  moments  only  a  swim 
ming  curtain  of  black,  with  a  few  familiar  objects 
picked  out  against  the  gloom.  He  could  distinguish 
his  trunk  sailing  to  and  fro,  a  remembered  mirror 
before  which  he  had  brushed  his  hair,  a  book  in  a 
well-known  binding,  and  a  lamp  with  a  soft  yellow 
globe,  that  immediately  took  him  to  a  certain  res 
taurant  in  Paris,  and  made  him  fancy  that  he  was 
dining  under  the  yellow  lights  in  its  ceiling. 

Where  was  he,  —  in  what  country  had  he  been  hav- 


ON   THE  SUDDEN  SOMETHING  ILL.  99 

ing  this  long,  dreamless  sleep  ?  And  by  dint  of  much 
brain  racking,  which  bathed  his  whole  body  in  a  pro 
fuse  perspiration,  he  at  length  retraced  his  steps 
back  into  his  life,  and  decided  that  he  was  in  the 
last  place  that  he  remembered  before  he  fell  into 
this  disembodied-spirit  condition  of  mind,  —  his  room 
in  the  Sleeping  Water  Inn. 

There  was  the  open  window,  through  which  he 
had  so  often  listened  to  the  soothing  murmur  of  the 
sea  ;  there  were  the  easy  chairs,  the  chest  of  drawers, 
the  little  table,  that,  as  he  remembered  it  last,  was 
not  covered  with  medicine-bottles.  The  child's  cot 
was  a  wholly  new  object.  Had  the  landlady's  little 
boy  been  sharing  his  quarters  ?  What  was  his 
name  ?  Ah,  yes,  Narcisse,  —  and  what  had  they 
called  the  sulky  Acadien  who  had  hung  about  the 
house,  and  who  now  sat  reading  in  a  rocking-chair 
by  the  table  ? 

Agapit  —  that  was  it  ;  but  why  was  he  here  in  his 
room  ?  Some  one  had  been  ill.  "  I  am  that  per 
son,"  suddenly  drifted  into  his  tortured  mind.  "  I 
have  been  very  ill  ;  perhaps  I  am  going  to  die." 
But  the  thought  caused  him  no  uneasiness,  no 
regret ;  he  was  conscious  only  of  an  indescribably 
acute  and  nervous  torture  as  his  weary  eyes  glued 
themselves  to  the  unconscious  face  of  his  watcher. 

Agapit  would  soon  lift  his  head,  would  stare  at 
him,  would  utter  some  exclamation  ;  and,  in  mute, 


IOO  ROSK   A    CHARLITTE. 

frantic  expectation,  Vesper  waited  for  the  start  and 
the  exclamation.  If  they  did  come  he  felt  that  they 
would  kill  him  ;  if  they  did  not,  he  felt  that  nothing 
less  than  a  sudden  and  immediate  felling  to  the  floor 
of  his  companion  would  satisfy  the  demands  of  his 
insane  and  frantic  agitation. 

Fortunately  Agapit  soon  turned  his  anxious  face 
towards  the  bed.  He  did  not  start,  he  did  not  ex 
claim  :  he  had  been  too  well  drilled  for  that ;  but  a 
quick,  quiet  rapture  fell  upon  him  that  was  expressed 
only  by  the  trembling  of  his  finger  tips. 

The  young  American  had  come  out  of  the  death 
like  unconsciousness  of  past  days  and  nights ;  he 
now  had  a  chance  to  recover ;  but  while  a  thanks 
giving  to  the  mother  of  angels  was  trembling  on  his 
lips,  his  patient  surveyed  him  in  an  ecstacy  of  irrita 
tion  and  weakness  that  found  expression  in  hysterical 
laughter. 

Agapit  was  alarmed.  He  had  never  heard  Vesper 
laugh  in  health.  He  had  rarely  smiled.  Possibly  he 
might  be  calmed  by  the  offer  of  something  to  eat, 
and,  picking  up  a  bowl  of  jelly,  he  approached  the 
bed. 

Vesper  made  a  supreme  effort,  slightly  moved  his 
head  from  the  descending  spoon,  and  uttered  the 
worst  expression  that  he  could  summon  from  his 
limited  vocabulary  of  abuse  of  former  days. 

Agapit  drew  back,  and  resignedly  put  the  jelly  on 


DA'   TJIR   SUDDEN  SOMETHING   ILL.  IOI 

the  table.  "  He  remembers  the  past,"  he  reflected, 
with  hanging  head. 

Vesper  did  not  remember  the  past ;  he  was  con 
scious  of  no  resentment.  He  was  possessed  only  of 
a  wild  desire  to  be  rid  of  this  man,  whose  presence 
inflamed  him  to  the  verge  of  madness. 

After  sorrowfully  surveying  him,  while  retreating 
further  and  further  from  his  inarticulate  expressions 
of  rage,  Agapit  stepped  into  the  hall.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  returned  with  Rose,  who  looked  pale 
and  weary,  as  if  she,  too,  were  a  watcher  by  a  sick 
bed.  She  glanced  quickly  at  Vesper,  suppressed  a 
smile  when  he  made  a  face  at  Agapit,  and  signed 
to  the  latter  to  leave  the  room. 

Vesper  became  calm.  Instead  of  sitting  down 
beside  him,  or  staring  at  him,  she  had  gone  to  the 
window,  and  stood  with  folded  hands,  looking  out 
into  the  night.  After  some  time  she  went  to  the 
table,  took  up  a  bottle,  and,  carefully  examining  it, 
poured  a  few  drops  into  a  spoon. 

Vesper  took  the  liquid  from  her,  with  no  sense  of 
irritation  ;  then,  as  she  quickly  turned  away,  he  felt 
himself  sinking  down,  clown,  through  his  bed,  through 
the  floor,  through  the  crust  of  the  earth,  into  regions 
of  infinite  space,  from  which  he  had  come  back  to 
the  world  for  a  time. 

The  next  time  he  waked  up,  Agapit  was  again 
with  him.  The  former  pantomime  would  have  been 


IO2  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

repeated  if  Agapit  had  not  at  once  precipitated 
himself  from  the  room,  and  sent  Rose  to  take  his 
place. 

This  time  she  smiled  at  Vesper,  and  made  an  ef 
fort  to  retain  his  attention,  even  going  so  far  as  to 
leave  the  room  and  reenter  with  a  wan  effigy  of 
Narcisse  in  her  arms,  — -  a  pale  and  puny  thing  that 
stared  languidly  at  him,  and  attempted  to  kiss  his 
hand. 

Vesper  tried  to  speak  to  the  child,  lost  himself  in 
the  attempt,  then  roused  his  slumbering  fancy  once 
more  and  breathed  a  question  to  Mrs.  Rose,  —  "  My 
mother  ? " 

"  Your  mother  is  well,  and  is  here,"  murmured  his 
landlady.  "  You  shall  see  her  soon." 

Vesper's  periods  of  slumber  after  this  were  not  of 
so  long  duration,  and  one  warm  and  delicious  after 
noon,  when  the  sunlight  was  streaming  in  and  flood 
ing  his  bed,  he  opened  his  eyes  on  a  frail,  happy 
figure  fluttering  about  the  room.  "  Ah,  mother," 
he  said,  calmly,  "you  are  here." 

She  flew  to  the  bed,  she  hovered  over  him,  em 
braced  him,  turned  away,  came  back  to  him,  and 
finally,  rigidly  clasping  her  hands  to  ensure  self- 
control,  sat  down  beside  him. 

At  first  she  would  not  talk,  the  doctor  would  not 
permit  it ;  but  after  some  days  her  tongue  was  al 
lowed  to  take  its  course  freely  and  uninterruptedly. 


ON  THE   SUDDEN  SOMETHING  ILL.  1 03 

"  My  dear  boy,  what  a  horrible  fright  you  gave 
me !  Your  letters  came  every  day  for  a  week,  then 
they  stopped.  I  waited  two  days,  thinking  you  had 
gone  to  some  other  place,  then  I  telegraphed.  You 
were  ill.  You  can  imagine  how  I  hurried  here, 
with  Henry  to  take  care  of  me.  And  what  do  you 
think  I  found  ?  Such  a  curious  state  of  affairs. 
Do  you  know  that  these  Acadiens  hated  you  at 
first  ? " 

"Yes,  I  remember  that." 

"  But  when  you  fell  ill,  that  young  man,  Agapit, 
installed  himself  as  your  nurse.  They  spoke  of  get 
ting  a  Sister  of  Charity,  but  had  some  scruples, 
thinking  you  might  not  like  it,  as  you  are  a  Protes 
tant.  Mrs.  de  Foret  closed  her  inn ;  she  would 
receive  no  guests,  lest  they  might  disturb  you. 
She  and  her  cousin  nursed  you.  They  got  an 
English  doctor  to  drive  twelve  miles  every  day, 
—  they  thought  you  would  prefer  him  to  a  French 
one.  Then  her  little  boy  fell  ill ;  he  said  the 
young  man  Agapit  had  hurt  you.  They  thought 
he  would  die,  for  he  had  brain  fever.  He  called 
all  the  time  for  you,  and  when  he  had  Imcid  inter 
vals,  they  could  only  convince  him  you  were  not  dead 
by  bringing  him  in,  and  putting  him  in  this  cot. 
Really,  it  was  a  most  deplorable  state  of  affairs. 
But  the  charming  part  is  that  they  thought  you 
were  a  pauper.  When  I  arrived,  they  were  thunder- 


104  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

struck.  They  had  not  opened  your  trunk,  which 
you  left  locked,  though  they  said  they  would  have 
done  so  if  I  had  not  come,  for  they  feared  you  might 
die,  and  they  wanted  to  get  the  addresses  of  your 
friends,  and  every  morning,  my  dear  boy,  for  three 
days  after  you  were  taken  ill,  you  started  up  at  nine 
o'clock,  the  time  that  queer,  red  postman  used  to 
come,  —  and  wrote  a  letter  to  me." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  paused,  hid  her  face  in  her  hands, 
and  burst  into  tears.  "  It  almost  broke  my  heart 
when  I  heard  it,  —  to  think  of  you  rousing  yourself 
every  day  from  your  semi-unconsciousness  to  write 
to  your  mother.  I  cannot  forgive  myself  for  letting 
you  go  away  without  me." 

"Why  did  they  not  write  from  here  to  you?" 
asked  Vesper. 

"  They  did  not  know  I  was  your  mother.  I  don't 
think  they  looked  at  the  address  of  the  letters  you 
had  sent.  They  thought  you  were  poor,  and  an 
adventurer." 

"  Why  did  they  not  write  to  The  Evening  News  ?  " 

"  My  dear  boy,  they  were  doing  everything  pos 
sible  for  you,  and  they  would  have  written  in 
time," 

"  You  have,  of  course,  told  them  that  they  shall 
suffer  no  loss  by  all  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  they  seem  almost  ashamed  to 
take  money  from  me.  That  charming  landlady  says, 


ON   THE  SUDDEN  SOMETHING   ILL.  105 

'  If  I  were  rich  I  would  pay  all,  myself.'  Vesper,  she 
is  a  wonderful  woman." 

"Is  she  ? "  he  said,  languidly. 

"  I  never  saw  any  one  like  her.  My  darling,  how 
do  you  feel  ?  Mayn't  I  give  you  some  wine  ?  I  feel 
as  if  I  had  got  you  back  from  the  grave,  I  can  never 
be  sufficiently  thankful.  The  doctor  says  you  may 
be  carried  out-of-doors  in  a  week,  if  you  keep  on 
improving,  as  you  are  sure  to  do.  The  air  here 
seems  to  suit  you  perfectly.  You  would  never  have 
been  ill  if  you  had  not  been  run  down  when  "you 
came.  That  young  man  Agapit  is  making  a  stretcher 
t(3  carry  you.  He  is  terribly  ashamed  of  his  dislike 
for  you,  and  he  fairly  worships  you  now." 

"  I  suppose  you  went  through  my  trunk,"  said 
Vesper,  in  faint,  indulgent  tones. 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  reluctantly.  "I 
thought,  perhaps,  there  might  be  something  to  be 
attended  to." 

"And  you  read  my  great-grandfather's  letter?" 

"  Yes,  —  I  will  tell  you  exactly  what  I  did.  I 
found  the  key  the  second  day  I  came,  and  I  opened 
the  trunk.  When  I  discovered  that  old  yellow  letter, 
I  knew  it  was  something  important.  I  read  it,  and 
of  course  recognized  that  you  had  come  here  in 
search  of  the  Fiery  Frenchman's  children.  However, 
I  did  not  think  you  would  like  me  to  tell  these 
Acadiens  that,  so  I  merely  said,  '  How  you  have  mis- 


IO6  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

understood  my  son !  He  came  here  to  do  good  to 
some  of  your  people.  He  is  looking  for  the  descend 
ants  of  a  poor  unhappy  man.  My  son  has  money, 
and  would  help  you.' ' 

Vesper  tried  to  keep  back  the  little  crease  of 
amusement  forming  itself  about  his  wasted  lips.  He 
had  rarely  seen  his  mother  so  happy  and  so  excited. 
She  prattled  on,  watching  him  sharply  to  see  the 
effect  of  her  words,  and  hovering  over  him  like  a 
kind  little  mother-bird.  In  some  way  she  reminded 
him  curiously  enough  of  Emmanuel  de  la  Rive. 

"  I  simply  told  them  how  good  you  are,  and  how 
you  hate  to  have  a  fuss  made  over  you.  The  young 
Acadien  man  actually  writhed,  and  Mrs.  de  Foret 
cried  like  a  baby.  Then  they  said,  '  Oh,  why  did 
he  put  the  name  of  a  paper  after  his  name  ? '  '  How 
cruel  in  you  to  say  that ! '  I  replied  to  them.  '  He 
does  that  because  it  reminds  him  of  his  dead  father, 
whom  he  adored.  My  husband  was  editor  and  pro 
prietor  of  the  paper,  and  my  son  owns  a  part  of  it.' 
You  should  have  seen  the  young  Acadien.  He  put 
his  head  down  on  his  arms,  then  he  lifted  it,  and 
said,  '  But  does  your  son  not  write  ? '  <  Write  ! '  I 
exclaimed,  indignantly,  'he  hates  writing.  To  me, 
his  own  mother,  he  only  sends  half  a  dozen  lines. 
He  never  wrote  a  newspaper  article  in  his  life.' 
They  would  have  been  utterly  overcome  if  I  had  not 
praised  them  for  their  disinterestedness  in  taking 


ON   THE   SUDDEN  SOMETHING  ILL.  IO/ 

care  of  you  in  -spite  of  their  prejudice  against  you. 
Vesper,  they  will  do  anything  for  you  now ;  and 
that  exquisite  child, — it  is  just  like  a  romance  that 
he  should  have  fallen  ill  because  you  did." 

"  Is  he  better?" 

"Almost  well.  They  often  bring  him  in  when 
you  are  asleep.  I  daresay  it  would  amuse  you  to 
have  him  sit  on  your  bed  for  awhile." 

Vesper  was  silent,  and,  after  a  time,  his  mother 
ran  on  :  "  This  French  district  is  delightfully  unique. 
I  never  was  in  such  an  out-of-the-world  place  except 
ir  Europe.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  moved  back  into 
a  former  century,  when  I  see  those  women  going 
about  in  their  black  handkerchiefs.  I  sit  at  the 
window  and  watch  them  going  by,  —  I  should  never 
weary  of  them." 

Vesper  said  nothing,  but  he  reflected  affection 
ately  and  acutely  that  in  a  fortnight  his  appreciative 
but  fickle  mother  would  be  longing  for  the  rustle  of 
silks,  the  flutter  of  laces,  and  the  hum  of  fashionable 
conversation  on  a  veranda,  which  was  her  idea  of  an 
enjoyable  summer  existence. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A    TALK    ON    THE    WHARF. 

"  Long  have  I  lingered  where  the  marshlands  are, 
Oft  hearing  in  the  murmur  of  the  tide 
The  past,  alive  again  and  at  my  side, 
With  unrelenting  power  and  hateful  war." 

j.  F.  H. 

"THERE  goes  the  priest  of  the  parish  in  his 
buggy,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo.  "  He  must  have  a  sick 
call." 

She  sat  on  a  garden  chair,  crocheting  a  white 
shawl  and  watching  the  passers-by  on  the  road. 

"  And  there  are  some  Sisters  of  Charity  from  one 
of  the  convents  and  an  old  Indian  with  a  load  of  bas 
kets  is  begging  from  them—  Don't  you  want  to 
look  at  these  bicyclists,  Vesper  ?  One,  two,  three, 
four,  five,  six.  They  are  from  Boston,  I  know,  by 
the  square  collars  on  their  jerseys.  The  Nova  Sco- 
tians  do  not  dress  in  that  way." 

Vesper  gave  only  a  partial  though  pleased  attention 
to  his  mother,  who  had  picked  up  an  astonishing 
amount  of  neighborhood  news,  and  as  he  lay  on  a 

108 


A    TALK  ON   THE    WHARF.  IOQ 

rug  at  her  feet,  with  his  hat  pulled  over  his  brows, 
his  mind  soared  up  to  the  blue  sky  above  him.  Dur 
ing  his  illness  he  had  always  seemed  to  be  sinking 
down  into  blackness  and  desolation.  With  returning 
health  and  decreased  nervousness  his  soul  mounted 
upward,  and  he  would  lie  for  hours  at  a  time  bathed 
in  a  delicious  reverie  and  dreaming  of  "a  nest 
among  the  stars." 

"  And  there  is  the  blacksmith  from  the  corner," 
continued  Mrs.  Nimmo,  "  who  comes  here  so  often 
to  borrow  things  that  a  blacksmith  is  commonly  sup 
posed  to  have.  Yesterday  he  wanted  a  hammer. 
'  Not  a  hammer,'  said  Celina  to  me,  '  but  a  wife.' ' 

Vesper's  brain  immediately  turned  an  abrupt  som 
ersault  in  a  descent  from  the  sky  to  earth.  "  What 
did  you  say,  mother?" 

"  Merely  that  the  blacksmith  wishes  to  marry  our 
landlady.  It  will  be  an  excellent  match  for  her. 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  In  some  respects,  — yes." 

"  She  is  too  young,  and  too  handsome,  to  remain  a 
widow.  Celina  says  that  she  has  had  a  great  many 
admirers,  but  she  has  never  seemed  to  fancy  any  one 
but  the  blacksmith.  She  went  for  a  drive  with  him 
last  Sunday  evening.  You  know  that  is  the  time 
young  Acadiens  call  on  the  girls  they  admire.  You 
see  them  walking  by,  or  driving  in  their  buggies.  If 
a  girl's  fianct  did  not  call  on  her  that  evening  she 


I  IO  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

would  throw  him  over  —  There  she  is  now  with 
your  beef  tea,"  and  Mrs.  Nimmo  admiringly  watched 
Rose  coming  from  the  kitchen  and  carefully  guard 
ing  a  dainty  china  cup  in  her  hand. 

Vesper  got  up  and  took  it  from  her.  "  Don't  you 
think  it  is  nonsense  for  me  to  be  drinking  this  every 
morning  ?  "  he  asked. 

Rose  looked  up  at  him  as  he  stood,  tall,  keen-eyed, 
interested,  and  waiting  for  her  answer.  "  What  does 
madame,  your  mother,  say?"  she  asked,  indicating 
Mrs.  Nimmo,  by  a  pretty  gesture. 

"His  mother  says,"  remarked  Mrs.  Nimmo,  indul 
gently,  "  that  her  son  should  take  any  dose,  no  matter 
how  disagreeable,  if  it  has  for  its  object  the  good  of 
his  health." 

Vesper  glanced  sharply  at  her,  then  poured  the 
last  few  drops  of  his  tea  on  the  ground. 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Rose,  anxiously,  "I  feared  that  I 
had  not  put  in  enough  salt.  Now  I  know." 

"  It  was  perfect,"  said  Vesper.  "  I  am  only  offering 
a  libation  to  those  pansies,"  and  he  inclined  his  dark 
head  towards  Narcisse,  who  was  seated  cross-legged 
in  the  hammock. 

Rose  took  the  cup,  smiled  innocently  and  angeli 
cally  on  her  child  and  the  young  man  and  his  mother, 
and  returned  to  the  house. 

Agapit  presently  came  hurrying  by  the  fence. 
"  Ah,  that  is  good !  "  he  exclaimed,  when  he  saw 


A    TALK  ON  THE    WHARF.  Ill 

Vesper  sauntering  to  and  fro  ;  "  do  you  not  think  you 
could  essay  a  walk  to  the  wharf  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Vesper,  while  his  mother  anxiously 
looked  up  from  her  work. 

"  Then  come,  —  let  me  have  the  honor  of  escorting 
you,"  and  Agapit  showed  his  big  white  teeth  in  an 
ecstatic  smile. 

Vesper  extended  a  hand  to  Narcisse,  and,  lifting 
his  cap  to  his  mother,  went  slowly  down  the  lane  to 
the  road. 

Agapit  could  scarcely  contain  his  delight.  He 
grinned  broadly  at  every  one  they  met,  tried  to  ac 
commodate  his  pace  to  Vesper's,  kept  forgetting  and 
striding  ahead,  and  finally,  cramming  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  fell  behind  and  muttered,  "  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
known  you  a  hundred  years." 

"You  didn't  feel  that  way  six  weeks  ago,"  said 
Vesper,  good-humoredly. 

"  I  blush  for  it,  —  I  am  ashamed,  but  can  you  blame 
me  ?  Since  days  of  long  ago,  Acadiens  have  been  so 
much  maligned.  You  do  not  find  that  we  are  worse 
than  others  ? " 

"  Well,  I  think  you  would  have  been  a  pretty 
ticklish  fellow  to  have  handled  at  the  time  of  the 
expulsion." 

"  Our  dear  Lord  knew  better  than  to  bring  me 
into  the  world  then,"  said  Agapit,  naively.  "  I 
should  have  urged  the  Acadiens  to  take  up  arms. 


112  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

There  were  enough  of  them  to  kill  those  devilish 
English." 

"  Do  all  the  Acadiens  hate  the  English  as  much  as 
you  do  ?  " 

"/  hate  the  English?"  cried  Agapit.  "How 
grossly  you  deceive  yourself!" 

"  What  do  you  mean  then  by  that  strong  lan 
guage  ? " 

Agapit  threw  himself  into  an  excited  attitude. 
"  Let  you  dare  —  you  youthful,  proud  young  republic, 
—  to  insult  our  Canadian  flag.  You  would  see  where 
stands  Agapit  LeNoir !  England  is  the  greatest 
nation  in  the  world,"  and  proudly  swelling  out  his 
breast,  he  swept  his  glance  over  the  majestic  Bay 
before  them. 

"Yes,  barring  the  United  States  of  America." 

"I  cannot  quarrel  with  you,"  said  Agapit,  and  the 
fire  left  his  glance,  and  moisture  came  to  his  eyes. 
"  Let  us  each  hold  to  our  own  opinion." 

"And  suppose  insults  not  forthcoming, — give 
me  some  further  explanation  meantime." 

"  My  quarrel  is  not  with  the  great-minded,"  said 
Agapit,  earnestly,  "the  eagerly  anxious -for -peace 
Englishmen  in  years  gone  by,  who  reinforced  the 
kings  and  queens  of  England.  No,  —  I  impeach 
the  low-born  upstarts  and  their  colonial  accomplices. 
Do  you  know,  can  you  imagine,  that  the  diabolical 
scheme  of  the  expulsion  of  the  Acadiens  was  con- 


A    TAL'K  ON   THE    WHARF.  I  1 3 

ceived  by  a  barber,  and  carried  into  decapitation  by 
a  house  painter  ?  " 

"  Not  possible,"  murmured  Vesper. 

"  Yes,  possible,  —  let  me  find  you  a  seat.  I  shall 
not  forgive  myself  if  I  weary  you,  and  those  women 
will  kill  me." 

They  had  reached  the  wharf,  and  Agapit  pointed 
to  a  pile  of  boards  against  the  wooden  breastwork 
that  kept  the  waves  from  dashing  over  in  times  of 
storm. 

"  That  infamous  letter  is  always  like  a  scroll  of 
fire  before  me,"  he  exclaimed,  pacing  restlessly  to 
and  fro  before  Vesper  and  the  child.  "  In  it  the 
once  barber  and  footman,  Craggs,  who  was  then 
secretary  of  state,  wrote  to  the  governor  of  Nova 
Scotia :  '  I  see  you  do  not  get  the  better  of  the 
Acadiens.  It  is  singular  that  those  people  should 
have  preferred  to  lose  their  goods  rather  than  be 
exposed  to  fight  against  their  brethren.  This  sen 
timentality  is  stupid.'  Ah,  let  it  be  stupid!" 
exclaimed  Agapit,  breaking  off.  "  Let  us  once 
more  have  an  expulsion.  The  Acadiens  will  go, 
they  will  suffer,  they  will  die,  before  they  give  up 
sentimentality." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  observed  Vesper. 

Agapit  surveyed  him  with  a  glowing  eye.  "  Listen 
to  further  words  from  this  solemn  official,  this  barber 
secretary  :  '  These  people  are  evidently  too  much 


114  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

attached  to  their  fellow  countrymen  and  to  their 
religion  ever  to  make  true  Englishmen.'  Of  what 
are  true  linglishmen  made,  Mr.  Englishman  from 
Boston  ? " 

"Of  poor  Erenchmen,  according  to  the  barber." 

"  Now  hear  more  courtly  language  from  the 
honorable  Craggs  :  '  It  must  be  avowed  that  your 
position  is  deucedly  critical.  It  was  very  difficult 
to  prevent  them  from  departing  after  having  left 
the  bargain  to  their  choice  — 

"  What  does  he  mean  by  that  ?  "  asked  Vesper. 

"  Call  to  your  memory  the  terms  of  the  treaty  of 
Utrecht." 

"  I  don't  remember  a  word  of  it,  — -  bear  in  mind, 
my  friend,  that  I  am  not  an  Acadien,  and  this  ques 
tion  does  not  possess  for  me  the  moving  interest  it 
does  for  you.  I  only  know  Longfellow's  '  Evange- 
line,' -— which,  until  lately,  has  always  seemed  to  me 
to  be  a  pretty  myth  dressed  up  to  please  the  public, 
and  make  money  for  the  author,  —  some  magazine 
articles,  and  Parkman,  my  favorite  historian,  whom 
you,  nevertheless,  seem  to  dislike." 

Agapit  dropped  on  a  block  of  wood,  and  rocked 
himself  to  and  fro,  as  if  in  distress.  "  I  will  not 
characterize  Parkman,  since  he  is  your  countryman  ; 
but  I  would  dearly  love — I  would  truly  admire  to 
say  what  I  think  of  him.  Now  as  to  the  treaty  of 
Utrecht ;  think  just  a  moment,  and  you  will  remem- 


A    TALK  ON   THE    WHARF.  115 

her  that  it  transferred  the  Acacliens  as  the  subjects 
of  Louis  XIV.  of  France  to  the  good  Queen  Anne 
of  England." 

Vesper,  instead  of  puzzling  his  brain  with  his 
torical  reminiscences,  immediately  began  to  make 
preparations  for  physical  comfort,  and  stretched 
himself  out  on  the  pile  of  boards,  with  his  arm  for 
a  pillow. 

"  Do  not  sleep,  but  conversate,"  said  Agapit, 
eagerly.  "It  is  cool  here,  you  possibly  would  get 
cold  if  you  shut  your  eyes.  I  will  change  this  mat 
te;  of  talk,  —  there  is  one  I  would  fain  introduce." 

Vesper,  in  inward  diversion,  found  that  a  new 
solemnity  had  taken  possession  of  the  young  Aca- 
dien.  He  looked  unutterable  things  at  the  Bay, 
indescribable  things  at  the  sky,  and  mysterious 
things  at  the  cook  of  the  schooner,  who  had  just 
thrust  his  head  through  a  window  in  his  caboose. 

At  last  he  gave  expression  to  his  emotion. 
"  Would  this  not  be  a  fitting  time  to  talk  of  the 
wonderful  letter  of  which  madame,  your  mother, 
hinted  ?" 

Vesper,  without  a  word,  drew  a  folded  paper  from 
his  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  him. 

Agapit  took  it  reverently,  swayed  back  and  forth 
while  devouring  its  contents,  then,  unable  to  restrain 
himself,  sprang  up,  and  walked,  or  rather  ran,  to  and 
fro  while  perusing  it  a  second  time. 


I  1 6  ROSE   A    CHARtlTTE. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  dead  halt,  and  breathing 
hard,  and  with  eyes  aflame,  ejaculated,  "  Thank  you, 
a  thousand,  thousand  time  for  showing  me  this  pre 
cious  letter."  Then  pressing  it  to  his  breast,  he  dis 
appeared  entirely  from  Vesper's  range  of  vision. 

After  a  time  he  came  back.  Some  of  his  excite 
ment  had  gone  from  his  head  through  his  heels,  and 
he  sank  heavily  on  a  block  of  wood. 

"You  do  not  know,  you  cannot  tell,"  he  said, 
"  what  this  letter  means  to  us." 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means  —  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  say  the 
word,  but  I  will  try  —  cor-rob-o ration." 

"  Explain  a  little  further,  will  you  ?  " 

"  In  the  past  all  was  for  the  English.  Now  rec 
ords  are  being  discovered,  old  documents  are  coming 
to  light.  The  guilty  colonial  authorities  suppressed 
them.  Now  these  records  declare  for  the  Acadiens." 

"  So  —  this  letter,  being  from  one  on  the  opposite 
side,  is  valuable." 

"It   is   like  a    diamond    unearthed,"   said  Agapit, 
turning   it   over;    "but,"    -in    sudden    curiosity,— 
"  this  is  a  copy  mutilated,  for  the  name  of  the  cap 
tain  is  not  here.      Erom  whom  did  you  have  it ,  if  I 
am  permitted  to  ask  ?  " 

"  From  the  great-grandson  of  the  old  fellow  men 
tioned." 

"And  he  does  not  wish  his  name  known?" 


A    TALK   ON   THE    WHARF.  I  I/ 

"  Well,  naturally  one  does  not  care  to  shout  the 
sins  of  one's  ancestors." 

"  The  noble  young  man,  the  dear  young  man," 
said  Agapit,  warmly.  "  He  will  atone  for  the  sins 
of  his  fathers." 

"  Not  particularly  noble,  only  business-like." 

"  And  has  he  much  money,  that  he  wishes  to  aid 
this  family  of  Acadiens  ?  " 

"  No,  not  much.  His  father's  family  never  suc 
ceeded  in  making  money  and  keeping  it.  His  mother 
is  rich." 

'  I  should  like  to  see  him,"  exclaimed  Agapit, 
and  his  black  eyes  flashed  over  Vesper's  composed 
features.  "  I  should  love  him  for  his  sensitive 
heart." 

"There  is  nothing  very  interesting  about  him," 
said  Vesper.  "  A  sick,  used-up  creature." 

"Ah,  — he  is  delicate." 

"  Yes,  and  without  courage.  He  is  a  college  man 
and  would  have  chosen  a  profession  if  his  health  had 
not  broken  down." 

"  I  pity  him  from  my  heart ;  I  send  good  wishes 
to  his  sick-bed,"  said  Agapit,  in  a  passion  of  enthusi 
asm.  "  I  will  pray  to  our  Lord  to  raise  him." 

"  Can  you  give  him  any  assistance  ? "  asked  Ves 
per,  nodding  towards  the  letter. 

"  I  do  not  know ;  I  cannot  tell.  There  are  many 
LeNoirs.  But  I  will  go  over  my  papers  ;  I  will  sit 


Il8  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

up  at  night,  as  I  now  do  some  writing  for  the  post- 
office.  You  know  I  am  poor,  and  obliged  to  work. 
I  must  pay  Rose  for  my  board.  I  will  not  depend 
on  a  woman." 

Vesper  half  lifted  his  drooping  eyelids.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  make  of  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  study  law.  I  save  money  for  a  period 
in  a  university." 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"Twenty-three." 

"  Your  cousin  looks  about  that  age." 

"  She  is  twenty-four,  —  a  year  older  ;  and  you,  - 
may  I  ask  your  age  ?  " 

"  Guess." 

Agapit  studied  his  face.     "You  are  twenty-six." 

"No." 

"  I  daresay  we  are  both  younger  than  Rose,"  said 
Agapit,  ingenuously,  "  and  she  has  less  sense  than 
either." 

"  Did  your  ancestors  come  from  the  south  of 
France  ?  "  asked  Vesper,  abruptly. 

"  Not  the  LeNoirs  ;  but  my  mother's  family  was 
from  Provence.  Why  do  you  ask  ? " 

"You  are  like  a  Frenchman  of  the  south." 

"  I  know  that  I  am  impetuous,"  pursued  Agapit. 
"  Rose  says  that   I  resemble  the  tea-kettle.      I  boil 
and  bubble  all  the  time  that  I  am  not  asleep,  and  " 
uneasily  —  "she  also  says  that  I  speak  too  hastily  of 


A    TALK  Oi\    THE    WHARF.  119 

women ;  that  I  do  not  esteem  them  as  clever  as  they 
are.  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

Vesper  laughed  quickly.  "  Southerners  all  have 
a  slight  contempt  for  women.  However,  they  are 
frank  about  it.  Is  there  one  thought  agitating  your 
bosom  that  you  do  not  express  ? " 

"  No ;  most  unfortunately.  It  chagrins  me  that 
I  speak  everything.  I  feel,  and  often  speak  before  I 
feel,  but  what  can  one  do  ?  It  is  my  nature.  Rose 
also  follows  her  nature.  She  is  beautiful,  but  she 
studies  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  but  the  science 
of  cooking." 

"  Without  which  philosophers  would  go  mad  from 
indigestion." 

"  Yes  ;  she  was  born  to  cook  and  to  obey.  Let 
her  keep  her  position,  and  not  say,  '  Agapit,  thou 
must  do  so -and  so,'  as  she  sometimes  will,  if  I  am  not 
rocky  with  her." 

"  Rocky  ?  "  queried  Vesper. 

"  Firmy,  firm,"  said  Agapit,  in  confusion.  "The 
words  twist  in  my  mind,  unless  my  blood  is  hot, 
when  I  speak  better.  Will  you  not  correct  me  ? 
Upon  going  out  in  the  world  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
laughed." 

"To  be  laughed  at,"  said  his  new  friend.  "Don't 
worry  yourself.  You  speak  well  enough,  and  will 
improve." 

Agapit  grew  pale  with  emotion.      "  Ah,    but   we 


120  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

shall  miss  you  when  you  go !  There  has  been  no 
Englishman  here  that  we  so  liked.  I  hope  that  you 
will  be  long  in  finding  the  descendants  of  the  Fiery 
Frenchman." 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  find  some  of  them  in  you  and 
your  cousin,"  said  Vesper. 

"Ah,  if  you  could,  what  joy!  what  bliss! — but 
I  fear  it  is  not  so.  Our  forthfathers  were  not  of 
Grand  Pre." 

Vesper  relapsed  into  silence,  only  occasionally 
rousing  himself  to  answer  some  of  Agapit's  restless 
torrent  of  remarks  about  the  ancient  letter.  At  last 
he  grew  tired,  and,  sitting  up,  laid  a  caressing  hand 
on  the  head  of  Narcisse,  who  was  playing  with  some 
shells  beside  him.  "  Come,  little  one,  we  must 
return  to  the  house." 

On  the  way  back  they  met  the  blacksmith.  Agapit 
snickered  gleefully,  "  All  the  world  supposes  that  he 
is  making  the  velvet  paw  to  Rose." 

"  She  drives  with  him,"  said  Vesper,  indifferently. 

"  Yes,  but  to  obtain  news  of  her  sister  who  flouts 
him.  She  is  down  the  Bay,  and  Rose  receives  news 
of  her.  She  will  no  longer  drive  with  him  if  she 
hears  this  gossip." 

"  Why  should  she  not  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  but  she  will  not.  Possibly  be 
cause  she  is  no  coquette." 

"  She  will  probably  marry  some  one." 


A    TALK  ON   THE    WHARF.  121 

"  She  cannot,"  muttered  Agapit,  and  he  fell  into 
a  quiet  rage,  and  out  of  it  again  in  the  duration  of  a 
few  seconds.  Then  he  resumed  a  light-hearted  con 
versation  with  Vesper,  who  averted  his  curious  eyes 
from  him. 


CHAPTER    X. 

BACK    TO    THE    CONCESSION. 

"  And  Nature  hath  remembered,  for  a  trace 
Of  calm  Acadien  life  yet  holds  command, 
Where,  undisturbed,  the  rustling  willows  stand, 
And  the  curved  grass,  telling  the  breeze's  pace." 

j.  F.  H. 

MRS.  ROSE  A  CHARLITTE  served  her  dinner  in  the 
middle  of  the  day.  The  six  o'clock  meal  she  called 
supper. 

With  feminine  insight  she  noticed,  at  supper,  on  a 
day  a  week  later,  that  her  guest  was  more  quiet  than 
usual,  and  even  dull  in  humor. 

Agapit,  who  was  nearly  always  in  high  spirits,  and 
always  very  much  absorbed  in  himself,  came  bustling 
in,  —  sobered  down  for  one  minute  to  cross  himself, 
and  reverently  repeat  a  be'nJdicit/,  then  launched  into 
a  voluble  and  enjoyable  conversation  on  the  subject 
of  which  he  never  tired,  —  his  beloved  countrymen, 
the  Acadiens. 

Rose  withdrew  to  the  innermost  recesses  of  her 
pantry.  "  Do  you  know  these  little  berries  ? "  she 


BACK    TO    THE    CONCESSION. 

asked,  coming  back,  and  setting  a  glass  dish,  full  of  a 
thick,  whitish  preserve,  before  Vesper. 

"  No,"  he  said,  absently,  "  what  are  they  ?  " 

"They  are po ndabrc,  or  capillaire,  —  waxen  berries 
that  grow  deep  in  the  woods.  They  hide  their  little 
selves  under  leaves,  yet  the  children  find  them. 
They  are  expensive,  and  we  do  not  buy  many,  yet 
perhaps  you  will  find  them  excellent." 

"  They  are  delicious,"  said  Vesper,  tasting  them. 

"Give  me  also  some,"  said  Agapit,  with  pretended 
jealousy.  "  It  is  not  often  that  we  are  favored  with 
peudabre" 

"There  are  yours  beside  your  plate,"  said  Rose, 
mischievously;  "you  have,  if  anything,  more  than 
Mr.  Nimmo." 

She  very  seldom  mentioned  Vesper's  name.  It 
sounded  foreign  on  her  lips,  and  he  usually  liked  to 
hear  her.  This  evening  he  paid  no  attention  to  her, 
and,  with  a  trace  of  disappointment  in  her  manner, 
she  went  away  to  the  kitchen. 

After  Vesper  left  the  table  she  came  back. 
"Agapit,  the  young  man  is  dull." 

"I  assure  thee,"  said  Agapit,  in  French,  and  very 
dictatorially,  "he  is  as  gay  as  he  usually  is." 

"  He  is  never  gay,  but  this  evening  he  is 
troubled." 

Agapit  grew  uneasy.  "  Dost  thou  think  he  will 
again  become  ill  ?  " 


124  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Rose's  brilliant  face  became  pale.  "  I  trust  not. 
Ah,  that  would  be  terrible  !  " 

"  Possibly  he  thinks  of  something.  Where  is  his 
mother  ? " 

"  Above,  in  her  room.  Some  books  came  from 
Boston  in  a  box,  and  she  reads.  Go  to  him,  Agapit  ; 
talk  not  of  the  dear  dead,  but  of  the  living.  Seek 
not  to  find  out  in  what  his  dullness  consists,  and 
do  not  say  abrupt  things,  but  gentle.  Remember  all 
the  kind  sayings  that  thou  knowest  about  women. 
Say  that  they  are  constant  if  they  truly  love.  They 
do  not  forget." 

Agapit's  fingers  remained  motionless  in  the  bowl 
of  the  big  pipe  that  he  was  filling  with  tobacco. 
"  Ma  foi,  but  thou  art  eloquent.  What  has  come 
over  thee  ? " 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  she  said,  hurriedly,  "  I  only 
wonder  whether  he  thinks  of  \\isjianccc." 

"  How  dost  thou  know  he  has  a  fiancee  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know,  I  guess.  Surely,  so  handsome 
a  young  man  must  belong  already  to  some  woman." 

"  Ah,  —  probably.  Rose,  I  am  glad  that  thou 
hast  never  been  a  coquette." 

"And  why  should  I  be  one?"  she  asked,  wonder- 
ingly. 

"  Why,  thou  hast  ways,  —  sly  ways,  like  most 
women,  and  thou  art  meek  and  gentle,  else  why  do 
men  run  after  thee,  thou  little  bleating  lamb  ?  " 


BACK   TO    THE    CONCESSION.  12$ 

Rose  made  him  no  answer  beyond  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders. 

"  But  thou  wilt  not  marry.  Is  it  not  so  ?  "  he  con 
tinued,  with  tremulous  eagerness.  "  It  is  better  for 
thee  to  remain  single  and  guard  thy  child." 

She  looked  up  at  him  wistfully,  then,  as  solemnly 
as  if  she  were  taking  a  vow,  she  murmured,  "  I  do 
not  know  all  things,  but  I  think  I  shall  never 
marry." 

Agapit  could  scarcely  contain  his  delight.  He 
laid  a  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  exclaimed,  "  My 
good  little  cousin  !  "  Then  he  lighted  his  pipe  and 
smoked  in  ecstatic  silence. 

Rose  occupied  herself  with  clearing  the  things 
from  the  table,  until  a  sudden  thought  struck  Aga 
pit.  "  Leave  all  that  for  Cclina.  Let  us  take  a 
drive,  you  and  I  and  the  little  one.  Thou  hast  been 
much  in  the  house  lately." 

"  But  Mr.  Nimmo  —  will  it  be  kind  to  leave  him  ?  " 

"  He  can  come  if  he  will,  biit  thou  must  also  ask 
madame.  Go  then,  while  I  harness  Toochune." 

"  I  am  not  ready,"  said  Rose,  shrinking  back. 

"  Ready  !  "  laughed  Agapit.  "  I  will  make  thee 
ready,"  and  he  pulled  her  shawl  and  handkerchief 
from  a  peg  near  the  kitchen  door. 

"  I  had  the  intention  of  wearing  my  hat,"  faltered 
Rose. 

"  Absurdity !    keep    it    for    mass,    and     save    thy 


126  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

money.  Go  ask  the  young  man,  while  I  am  at  the 
stable." 

Rose  meekly  put  on  the  shawl  and  the  handker 
chief,  and  went  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

Vesper  stood  in  the  doorway,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back.  She  could  only  see  his  curly  head, 
a  bit  of  his  cheek,  and  the  tip  of  his  mustache.  At 
the  sound  of  her  light  step  he  turned  around,  and  his 
face  brightened. 

"Look  at  the  sunset,"  he  said,  kindly,  when  she 
stood  in  embarrassment  before  him.  "  It  is  remark 
able." 

It  was  indeed  remarkable.  A  blood-red  sun  was 
shouldering  his  way  in  and  out  of  a  wide  dull  mass 
of  gray  cloud  that  was  unrelieved  by  a  single  fleck 
of  color. 

Rose  looked  at  the  sky,  and  Vesper  looked  at  her, 
and  thought  of  a  grieving  Madonna.  She  had  been 
so  gay  and  cheerful  lately.  What  had  happened  to 
call  that  expression  of  divine  tenderness  and  sympa 
thy  to  her  face  ?  He  had  never  seen  her  so  ethereal 
and  so  spiritually  beautiful,  not  even  when  she  was 
bending  over  his  sick-bed.  What  a  rest  and  a  pleas 
ure  to  weary  eyes  she  was,  in  her  black  artistic  gar 
ments,  and  how  pure  was  the  oval  of  her  face,  how 
becoming  the  touch  of  brownness  on  the  fair  skin. 
The  silk  handkerchief  knotted  under  her  chin  and 
pulled  hood-wise  over  the  shock  of  flaxen  hair  combed 


BACK   TO    THE    CONCESSION.  127 

up  from  the  forehead,  which  two  or  three  little 
curls"  caressed  daintily,  gave  the  finishing  touch  of 
quaintness  and  out-of-the-worldness  to  her  appear 
ance. 

"  You  are  feeling  slightly  blue  this  evening,  are 
you  not  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Blue, — that  means  one's  thoughts  are  black?" 
said  Rose,  bringing  her  glance  back  to  him. 

"Yes." 

"Then  I  am  a  very  little  blue,"  she  said,  frankly. 
"  This  inn  is  like  the  world  to  me.  When  those 
pbout  me  are  sad,  I,  too,  am  sad.  Sometimes  I 
grieve  when  strangers  go,  —  for  days  in  advance  I 
have  a  weight  at  heart.  When  they  leave,  I  shut 
myself  in  my  room.  For  others  I  do  not  care." 

"  And  are  you  melancholy  this  evening  because 
you  are  thinking  that  my  mother  and  I  must  soon 
leave  ? " 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  No  ;  I  did  not  think 
of  that,  but  I  do  now." 

"  Then  what  was  wrong  with  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  since  you  are  again  cheerful,"  she  said, 
in  tones  so  doleful  that  Vesper  burst  into  one  of  his 
rare  laughs,  and  Rose,  laughing  with  him,  brushed 
the  tears  from  her  face. 

"  There  was  something  running  in  my  mind  that 
made  me  feel  gloomy,"  he  said,  after  a  short  silence, 
"  It  has  been  haunting  me  all  day." 


128  ROSE    A    CHARLTTTE. 

Her  eager  glance  was  a  prayer  to  him  to  share  the 
cause  of  his  unhappiness  with  her,  and  he  recited,  in 
a  low,  penetrating  voice,  the  lines  : 

"  Mon  Dieu,  pour  fuir  la  mort  n'est-il  aucun  moyen  ? 
Quoi  ?     Dans  un  jour  peut-etre  immobile  et  glace.  .  .  . 
Aujourd'hui  avenir,  le  monde,  la  pense"e 
Et  puis,  demain,  .  .  .  plus  rien." 

Rose  had  never  heard  anything  like  this,  and  she 
was  troubled,  and  turned  her  blue  eyes  to  the  sky, 
where  a  trailing  white  cloud  was  soaring  above  the 
dark  cloud-bank  below.  "  It  is  like  a  soul  going  up 
to  our  Lord,"  she  murmured,  reverently. 

Vesper  would  not  shock  her  further  with  his  het 
erodoxy.  "  Forget  what  I  said,"  he  went  on,  lightly, 
"  and  let  me  beg  you  never  to  put  anything  on  your 
head  but  that  handkerchief.  You  Acadien  women 
wear  it  with  such  an  air." 

"  But  it  is  because  we  know  how  to  tie  it.  Look, 
—  this  is  how  the  Italian  women  in  Boston  carry  those 
colored  ones,"  and,  pulling  the  piece  of  silk  from  her 
head,  she  arranged  it  in  severe  lines  about  her  face. 

"A  decided  difference,"  Vesper  was  saying,  when 
Agapit  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  driving 
Toochune,  who  was  attached  to  a  shining  dog-cart. 

"  Are  you  going  with  us  ? "  he  called  out. 

"  I  have  not  yet  been  asked." 

"Thou  naughty  Rose,"  exclaimed  Agapit ;  but  she 


BACK   TO    THE    CONCESSION:  1 29 

had  already  hurried  up-stairs  to  invite  Mrs.  Nimmo 
to  accompany  them.  "  Madame,  your  mother,  pre 
fers  to  read,"  she  said,  when  she  came  back,  "there 
fore  Narcisse  will  come." 

"Mount  beside  me,"  said  Agapit  to  Vesper; 
"  Rose  and  Narcisse  will  sit  in  the  background." 

"  No,"  said  Vesper,  and  he  calmly  assisted  Rose 
to  the  front  seat,  then  extended  a  hand  to  swing 
Narcisse  up  beside  her.  The  child,  however,  clung 
to  him,  and  Vesper  was  obliged  to  take  him  in  the 
back  seat,  where  he  sat  nodding  his  head  and  look 
ing  like  a  big  perfumed  flower  in  his  drooping  hat 
and  picturesque  pink  trousers. 

"  You  smile,"  said  Agapit,  who  had  suddenly 
twisted  his  head  around. 

"  I  always  do,"  said  Vesper,  "  for  the  space  of  five 
minutes  after  getting  into  this  cart  " 

"  But  why  ?  " 

"  Well  —  an  amusing  contrast  presents  itself  to 
my  mind." 

"  And  the  contrast,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  driving  with  a  modern  Evangeline,  who  is 
not  the  owner  of  the  rough  cart  that  I  would  have 
fancied  her  in,  a  few  weeks  ago,  but  of  a  trap  that 
would  be  an  ornament  to  Commonwealth  Avenue." 

"Am  I  the  modern  Evangeline?"  said  Agapit,  in 
his  breakneck  fashion. 

"  To  my  mind  she  was  embodied  in  the  person  of 


I3O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTR. 

your  cousin,"  and  Vesper  bowed  in  a  sidewise  fash 
ion  towards  his  landlady. 

Rose  crimsoned  with  pleasure.  "  But  do  you  think 
I  am  like  Evangeline,  —  she  was  so  dark,  so  beauti 
ful  ?" 

"You  are  passable,  Rose,  passable,"  interjected 
Agapit,  "  but  you  lack  the  passion,  the  fortitude  of 
the  heroine  of  Mr.  Nimmo's  immortal  countryman, 
whom  all  Acadiens  venerate.  Alas  !  only  the  poets 
and  story-tellers  have  been  true  to  Acadie.  It  is  the 
historians  who  lie." 

"  Why  do  you  think  your  cousin  is  lacking  in  pas 
sion  and  fortitude?"  asked  Vesper,  who  had  either 
lost  his  gloomy  thoughts,  or  had  completely  subdued 
them,  and  had  become  unusually  vivacious. 

"  She  has  never  loved,  —  she  cannot.  Rose,  did 
you  love  your  husband  as  I  did  la  belle  Mar 
guerite  f  " 

"My  husband  was  older, — he  was  as  a  father," 
stammered  Rose.  "  Certainly  I  did  not  tear  my 
hair,  I  did  not  beat  my  foot  on  the  ground  when  he 
died,  as  you  did  when  la  belle  married  the  miller." 

"  Have  you  ever  loved  any  man  ?  "  pursued  Agapit, 
unmercifully. 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Agapit,"  muttered  Vesper  ;  "  don't 
bully  a  woman." 

Agapit  turned  to  stare  at  him,  —  not  angrily,  but 
rather  as  if  he  had  discovered  something  new  and 


HACK    TO    THE    CONCESSION.  131 

peculiar  in  the  shape  of  young  manhood.  "  Hear 
what  she  always  says  when  young  men,  and  often  old 
men,  drive  up  and  say,  '  Rose  a  Charlitte,  will  you 
marry  me  ? '  She  says,  '  Love,  —  it  is  all  nonsense. 
You  make  all  that.'  Is  it  not  so,  Rose?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  almost  inaudibly ;  "  I  have 
said  it." 

"  You  make  all  that,"  repeated  Agapit,  trium 
phantly.  "  They  can  rave  and  cry,  —  they  can  say, 
'  My  heart  is  breaking  ; '  and  she  responds,  '  Love,  — 
there  is  no  such  thing.  You  make  all  that.'  And 
ye i  you  call  her  an  Evangeline,  a  martyr  of  love  who 
laid  her  life  on  its  holy  altar." 

Rose  was  goaded  into  a  response,  and  turned  a 
flushed  and  puzzled  face  to  her  cousin.  "  Agapit,  I 
will  explain  that  lately  I  do  not  care  to  say  '  You 
make  all  that.'  I  comprehend  —  possibly  because 
the  blacksmith  talks  so  much  to  me  of  his  wish 
towards  my  sister  —  that  one  does  not  make  love. 
It  is  something  that  grows  slowly,  in  the  breast,  like 
a  flower.  Therefore,  do  not  say  that  I  am  of  ice  or 
stone." 

"But  you  do  not  care  to  marry,  —  you  just  come 
from  telling  me  so." 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  not  for  marriage,"  she  said,  modestly, 
"yet  do  not  say  that  I  understand  not.  It  is  a 
beautiful  thing  to  love." 

"It  is,"  said  Agapit,  "yet  do  not  think  of  it,  since 


132  KOSE   A    CIIAKLITTE. 

thou  dost  not  care  for  a  husband.  Let  thy  thoughts 
run  on  thy  cooking.  Thou  wert  born  for  that.  I 
think  that  thou  must  have  arrived  in  this  world  with 
a  little  stew-pan  in  thy  hand,  a  tasting  fork  hanging 
at  thy  girdle.  Do  not  wish  to  be  an  Evangeline  or  to 
read  books.  Figure  to  yourself,  Mr.  Nimmo,"  -  —  and 
he  turned  his  head  to  the  back  seat,  —  "  that  last 
night  she  came  to  my  room,  she  begged  me  for  an  Eng 
lish  book,  —  she  who  says  often  to  Narcisse,  '  I  will 
shake  thee,  my  little  one,  if  thou  usest  English  words.' 
She  says  now  that  she  wishes  to  learn,  —  she  finds 
herself  forgetful  of  many  things  that  she  learned  in  the 
convent.  I  said,  '  Go  to  bed,  thou  silly  fool.  Thy 
eyes  are  burning  and  have  black  rings  around  them 
the  color  of  thy  stove,'  and  she  whimpered  like  a 
baby. ' ' 

"Your  cousin  is  an  egotist,  Mrs.  Rose,"  said  Ves 
per,  over  his  shoulder.  "  I  will  lend  you  some 
books." 

"Agapit  is  as  a  brother,"  she  replied,  simply. 

"  I  have  been  a  good  brother  to  thee,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  will  never  forget  thee ;  not  even  when  I  go  out  into 
the  world.  Some  day  I  will  send  for  thee  to  live  with 
me  and  my  wife." 

"  Perhaps  thy  wife  will  not  let  me,"  she  said,  de 
murely. 

"  Then  she  may  leave  me ;  I  detest  women  who 
will  not  obey." 


BACK   TO    THE    CONCESSION.  133 

For  some  time  the  cousins  chattered  on  and  en 
deavored  to  snatch  a  glimpse,  in  "  time's  long  and 
dark  prospective  glass,"  of  Agapit's  future  wife,  while 
Vesper  listened  to  them  with  as  much  indulgence 
as  if  they  had  been  two  children.  He  was  just  en 
deavoring  to  fathom  the  rationale  of  their  curious 
interchange  of  thou  and  you,  when  Agapit  said,  "  If  it 
is  agreeable  to  you,  we  will  drive  back  in  the  woods 
to  the  Concession.  We  have  a  cousin  who  is  ill  there, 
—  see,  here  we  pass  the  station,"  and  he  pointed  his 
whip  at  the  gabled  roof  near  them. 

The  wheels  of  the  dog-cart  rolled  smoothly  over 
the  iron  rails,  and  they  entered  upon  a  road  bordered 
by  sturdy  evergreens  that  emitted  a  deliciously  resi 
nous  odor  and  occasioned  Mrs.  Rose  to  murmur, 
reverently,  "  It  is  like  mass  ;  for  from  trees  like  these 
the  altar  boys  get  the  gum  for  incense." 

Wild  gooseberry  and  raspberry  bushes  lined  the 
roadside,  and  under  their  fruit-laden  branches  grew 
many  wild  flowers.  A  man  who  stopped  Agapit  to 
address  a  few  remarks  to  him  gathered  a  handful  of 
berries  and  a  few  sprays  of  wild  roses  and  tossed  them 
in  Narcisse's  lap. 

The  child  uttered  a  polite,  "Merci,  monsieur" 
(thank  you,  sir),  then  silently  spread  the  flowers  and 
berries  on  the  lap  rug  and  allowed  tears  from  his 
beautiful  eyes  to  drop  on  them. 

Vesper  took  some  of  the  berries  in  his  hand,  and 


134  A'OS£   A    CHARLITTE. 

carefully  explained  to  the  sorrowing  Narcisse  that  the 
sensitive  shrubs  did  not  shiver  when  their  clothes 
were  stripped  from  them  and  their  hats  pulled  off. 
They  were  rather  shaking  their  sides  in  laughter  that 
they  could  give  pleasure  to  so  good  and  gentle  a  boy. 
And  the  flowers  that  bowed  so  meekly  when  one 
wished  to  behead  them,  were  trembling  with  delight 
to  think  that  they  should  be  carried,  for  even  a  short 
time,  by  one  who  loved  them  so  well. 

Narcisse  at  last  was  comforted,  and,  drying  his 
tears,  he  soberly  ate  the  berries,  and  presented  the 
roses  to  his  mother  in  a  brilliant  nosegay,  keeping 
only  one  that  he  lovingly  fastened  in  his  neck,  where 
it  could  brush  against  his  cheek. 

Soon  they  were  among  the  clearings  in  the  forest. 
Back  of  every  farm  stood  grim  trees  in  serried  rows, 
like  soldiers  about  to  close  in  on  the  gaps  made  in 
their  ranks  by  the  diligent  hands  of  the  Acadien 
farmers.  The  trees  looked  inexorable,  but  the  farm 
ers  were  more  so.  Here  in  the  backwoods  so  quiet 
and  still,  so  favorable  for  farming,  the  forest  must  go 
as  it  had  gone  near  the  shore. 

About  every  farmhouse,  men  and  women  were 
engaged  in  driving  in  cows,  tying  up  horses,  shutting 
up  poultry,  feeding  pigs,  and  performing  the  hundred 
and  one  duties  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  a  farmer's  family. 
Everywhere  were  children.  Each  farmer  seemed  to 
have  a  quiver  full  of  these  quiet,  well-behaved  little 


BACK   TO    THE    CONCESSION.  135 

creatures,  who  gazed  shyly  and  curiously  at  the  dog 
cart  as  it  went  driving  by. 

When  they  came  to  a  brawling,  noisy  river,  having 
on  its  banks  a  saw-mill  deserted  for  the  night,  Agapit 
exclaimed,  "  We  are  at  last  arrived  !  " 

Close  to  the  mill  was  a  low,  old-fashioned  house, 
situated  in  the  midst  of  an  extensive  apple  orchard 
in  which  the  fruit  was  already  taking  on  size  and 
color. 

"  They  picked  four  hundred  barrels  from  it  last 
year,"  said  Agapit,  "  our  cousins,  the  Kessys,  who  live 
here.  They  are  rich,  but  very  simple,"  and  springing 
out,  he  tied  Toochune's  head  to  the  gatepost.  "  Now 
let  us  enter,"  he  said,  and  he  ushered  Vesper  into  a 
small,  dull  room  where  an  old  woman  of  gigantic 
stature  sat  smoking  by  an  open  fireplace. 

Another  tall  woman,  with  soft  black  eyes,  and 
wearing  on  her  breast  a  medal  of  the  congregation 
of  St.  Anne,  took  Rose  away  to  the  sick-room,  while 
Agapit  led  Vesper  and  Narcisse  to  the  fireplace. 
"  Cousin  grandmother,  will  you  not  tell  this  gentle 
man  of  the  commencement  of  the  Iky  ? " 

The  old  woman,  who  was  nearly  sightless,  took 
her  pipe  from  her  mouth,  and  turned  her  white  head. 
"  Does  he  speak  French  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Agapit,  joyfully. 

A  light  came  into  her  face,  —  a  light  that  Vesper 
noticed  always  came  into  the  faces  of  Acadiens,  no 


136  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

matter  how  fluent  their  English,  if  he  addressed 
them  in  their  mother  tongue. 

"I  was  born  en  haut  de  la  Baie"  (up  the  Bay), 
she  began,  softly. 

"  Further  than  Sleeping  Water,  —  towards  Digby," 
said  Agapit,  in  an  undertone. 

"Near  Bleury,"  she  continued,  "where  there  were 
only  eight  families.  In  the  morning  my  mother 
would  look  out  at  the  neighbors'  chimneys  ;  where 
she  saw  smoke  she  would  send  me,  saying,  '  Go,  child, 
and  borrow  fire.'  Ah  !  those  were  hard  days.  We 
had  no  roads.  We  walked  over  the  beach  fifteen 
miles  to  Pointe  a  1'Eglise  to  hear  mass  sung  by  the 
good  Abbe. 

"  There  were  plenty  of  fish,  plenty  of  moose,  but 
not  so  many  boats  in  those  days.  The  hardships 
were  great,  so  great  that  the  weak  died.  Now  when 
my  daughter  sits  and  plays  on  the  organ,  I  think  of 
it.  David  Kessy,  my  father,  was  very  big.  Once 
our  wagon,  loaded  with  twenty  bushels  of  potatoes, 
stuck  in  the  mud.  He  put  his  shoulder  against  it 
and  lifted  it.  Nowadays  we  would  rig  a  jack,  but 
my  father  was  strong,  so  strong  that  he  took  insults, 
though  he  trembled,  for  he  knew  a  blow  from  his 
hand  would  kill  a  man." 

The  Acadienne  paused,  and  fell  into  a  gentle  rev 
erie,  from  which  Agapit,  who  was  stepping  nimbly  in 
and  out  of  the  room  with  jelly  and  other  delicacies 


BACK   TO    THE    CONCESSION.  1 37 

that    he    had    brought   for  the  invalid,   soon  roused 
her. 

"Tell  him  about  the  derangement,  cousin  grand 
mother,"  he  vociferated  in  her  ear,  "and  the  march 
from  Annapolis." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

NEWS    OF    THE  FIERY    FRENCHMAN. 

"  Below  me  winds  the  river  to  the  sea, 

On  whose  brown  slope  stood  wailing,  homeless  maids  ; 

Stood  exiled  sons  ;  unsheltered  hoary  heads  ; 
And  sires  and  mothers  dumb  in  agony. 
The  awful  glare  of  burning  homes,  where  free 

And  happy  late  they  dwelt,  breaks  on  the  shades, 

Encompassing  the  sailing  fleet;  then  fades, 
With  tumbling  roof,  upon  the  night-bound  sea. 
How  deep  is  hope  in  sorrow  sunk  !  How  harsh 

The  stranger  voice ;  and  loud  the  hopeless  wail ! 

Then  silence  came  to  dwell ;  the  tide  fell  low  ; 
The  embers  died.     On  the  deserted  marsh, 

Where  grain  and  grass  stirred  only  to  the  gale, 

The  moose  unchased  dare  cross  the  Gaspereau." 

J.  F.  HEREIN. 

AN  extraordinary  change  came  over  the  aged 
woman  at  Agapit's  words.  Some  color  crept  to  her 
withered  cheeks.  She  straightened  herself,  and,  no 
longer  leaning  on  her  cane,  said,  in  a  loud,  firm  voice, 
to  Vesper,  "  The  Acadiens  were  not  all  stolen  from 
Annapolis  at  the  derangement.  Did  you  think  they 
were  ?" 

138 


NEWS    OF    THE   FIERY  FRENCHMAN.  139 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  thought  about  it, 
madame,"  he  said,  courteously;  "but  I  should  like 
to  know." 

"About  fifty  families  ran  to  the  wood,"  she  said, 
with  mournful  vivacity ;  "  they  spent  the  winter 
there  ;  I  have  heard  the  old  people  talk  of  it  when 
I  was  young.  They  would  sit  by  the  fire  and  cry. 
I  would  try  not  to  cry,  but  the  tears  would  come. 
They  said  their  good  homes  were  burnt.  Only  at 
night  could  they  revisit  them,  lest  soldiers  would 
catch  them.  They  dug  their  vegetables  from  the 
ground.  They  also  got  one  cow  and  carried  her 
back.  Ah,  she  was  a  treasure !  There  was  one 
man  among  them  who  was  only  half  French,  and 
they  feared  him,  so  they  watched.  One  day  he  went 
out  of  the  woods,  —  the  men  took  their  guns  and 
followed.  Soon  he  returned,  fifty  soldiers  marching 
behind  him.  '  Halt !  '  cried  the  Acadiens.  They 
fired,  they  killed,  and  the  rest  of  the  soldiers  ran. 
'  Discharge  me  !  discharge  me  ! '  cried  the  man,  whom 
they  had  caught.  '  Yes,  we  will  discharge  you,'  they 
said,  and  they  put  his  back  against  a  tree,  and  once 
more  they  fired,  but  very  sadly.  At  the  end  of  the 
winter  some  families  went  away  in  ships,  but  the 
Comeaus,  Thibaudeaus,  and  Melangons  said,  '  We 
cannot  leave  Acadie  ;  we  will  find  a  quiet  place.'  So 
they  began  a  march,  and  one  could  trace  them  by 
the  graves  they  dug.  I  will  not  tell  you  all,  for  why 


I4O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

should  you  be  sad  ?  I  will  say  that  the  Indians 
were  good,  but  sometimes  the  food  went,  and  they 
had  to  boil  their  moccasins.  One  woman,  who  had 
a  young  baby,  got  very  weak.  They  lifted  her  up, 
they  shook  the  pea-straw  stuffing  from  the  sack  she 
lay  on,  and  found  her  a  handful  of  peas,  which  they 
boiled,  and  she  got  better. 

"  They  went  on  and  on,  they  crossed  streams,  and 
carried  the  little  ones,  until  they  came  here  to  the 
Bay,  —  to  Grosses  Coques,  —  where  they  found  big 
clams,  and  the  tired  women  said,  '  Here  is  food  ;  let 
us  stay.' 

"  The  men  cut  a  big  pine  and  hollowed  a  boat,  in 
which  they  went  to  the  head  of  the  Bay  for  the  cow 
they  had  left  there.  They  threw  her  down,  tied  her 
legs,  and  brought  her  to  Grosses  Coques.  Little  by 
little  they  carried  also  other  things  to  the  Bay,  and 
made  themselves  homes. 

"  Then  the  families  grew,  and  now  they  cover  all 
the  Bay.  Do  you  understand  now  about  the  march 
from  Annapolis  ?" 

"Thank  you,  yes,"  said  Vesper,  much  moved 
by  the  sight  of  tears  trickling  down  her  faded 
face. 

"  What  reason  did  the  old  people  give  for  this  ex 
pulsion  from  their  homes  ?  " 

"  Always  the  same,  always,  always,"  said  Madame 
Kessy,  with  energy.  "  They  would  not  take  the 


NEWS   OF    THK   FIERY  FRENCHMAN.  14! 

oath,  because  the  English  would  not  put  in  it  that  they 
need  not  fight  against  the  French." 

"But  now  you  are  happy  under  English  rule?" 

"  Yes,  now,  —  but  the  past  ?  What  can  make  up 
for  the  weeping  of  the  old  people  ? " 

Nothing  could,  and  Vesper  hastened  to  introduce 
a  new  subject  of  conversation.  "  I  have  heard  much 
about  the  good  Abbe  that  you  speak  of.  Did  you 
ever  see  him  ?  " 

"  See  him,  —  ah,  sir,  he  was  an  angel  of  God,  on 
this  Bay,  and  he  a  gentleman  out  of  France.  We 
were  all  his  children,  even  the  poor  Indians,  whom 
he  gathered  around  him  and  taught  our  holy  religion, 
till  their  fine  voices  would  ring  over  the  Bay,  in  hymns 
to  the  ever  blessed  Virgin.  He  denied  himself,  he 
paid  our  doctors'  bills,  even  to  twenty  pounds  at  a 
time,  —  ah,  there  was  mourning  when  he  died. 
When  my  bans  were  published  in  church  the  good 
Abbe  rode  no  more  on  horseback  along  the  Bay. 
He  lay  a  corpse,  and  I  could  scarcely  hold  up  my 
head  to  be  married." 

"  In  speaking  of  those  old  days,"  said  Vesper, 
"  can  you  call  to  mind  ever  hearing  of  a  LeNoir  of 
Grand  Pre  called  the  Fiery  Frenchman  ? " 

"  Of  Etex  LeNoir,"  cried  the  old  woman,  in  trum 
pet  tones,  "  of  the  martyr  who  shamed  an  English 
man,  and  was  murdered  by  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  that  is  the  man." 


142  ROSE    A    CHARLITTE. 

"  I  have  heard  of  him  often,  often.  The  old  ones 
spoke  of  it  to  me.  His  heart  was  broken,  —  the 
captain,  who  was  more  cruel  than  Winslow,  called 
him  a  papist  dog,  and  struck  him  down,  and  the 
sailors  threw  him  into  the  sea.  He  laid  a  curse  on 
the  wicked  captain,  but  I  cannot  remember  his  name." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  of  the  wife  and  child 
of  Etex  LeNoir  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  absently,  "  there  was  only  the 
husband  Etex  that  I  had  heard  of.  Would  not  his 
wife  come  back  to  the  Bay?  I  do  not  know,"  and 
she  relapsed  into  the  dullness  from  which  her  tem 
porary  excitement  had  roused  her. 

"  He  was  called  the  Fiery  Frenchman,"  she  mut 
tered,  presently,  but  so  low  that  Vesper  had  to  lean 
forward  to  hear  her.  "  The  old  ones  said  that  there 
was  a  mark  like  flame  on  his  forehead,  and  he  was 
like  fire  himself." 

"Agapit,  is  it  not  time  that  we  embark?"  said 
Rose,  gliding  from  an  inner  room.  "  It  will  soon  be 
dark." 

Agapit  sprang  up.  Vesper  shook  hands  with  Ma 
dame  Kessy  and  her  daughter,  and  politely  assured 
them,  in  answer  to  their  urgent  request,  that  he  would 
be  sure  to  call  again,  then  took  his  seat  in  the  dog 
cart,  where  in  company  with  his  new  friends  he  was 
soon  bowling  quickly  over  a  bit  of  smooth  and  newly 
repaired  road. 


NEWS   OF   THE   FIERY  FRENCHMAN.          143 

Away  ahead,  under  the  trees,  they  soon  heard 
snatches  of  a  lively  song,  and  presently  two  young 
men  staggered  into  view  supporting  each  other,  and 
having  much  difficulty  in  keeping  to  their  side  of  the 
road. 

Agapit,  with  angry  mutterings,  drove  furiously  by 
the  young  men,  with  his  head  well  in  the  air,  although 
they  saluted  him  as  their  dear  cousin  from  the  Bay. 

Rose  did  not  speak,  but  she  hung  her  head,  and 
Vesper  knew  that  she  was  blushing  to  the  tips  of  the 
white  ears  inside  her  black  handkerchief. 

No  one  ventured  a  remark  until  they  reached  a 
place  where  four  roads  met,  when  Agapit  ejaculated, 
desperately,  "The  devil  is  also  here  !  " 

Vesper  turned  around.  The  sun  had  gone  down, 
the  twilight  was  nearly  over,  but  he  possessed  keen 
sight  and  could  plainly  discover  against  the  dull  blue 
evening  sky  the  figures  of  a  number  of  men  and 
boys,  some  of  whom  were  balancing  themselves  on 
the  top  of  a  zigzag  fence,  while  others  stood  with 
hands  in  their  pockets,  —  all  vociferously  laughing 
and  jeering  at  a  man  who  staggered  to  and  fro  in 
their  midst  with  clenched  fists,  and  light  shirt-sleeves 
spotted  with  red. 

"  This  is  abominable,"  said  Agapit,  in  a  rage,  and 
he  was  about  to  lay  his  whip  on  Toochune's  back 
when  Vesper  suggested  mildly  that  he  was  in  danger 
of  running  down  some  of  his  countrymen. 


144  ROSE    A    CHAKLITTE. 

Agapit  pulled  up  the  horse  with  a  jerk,  and  Rose 
immediately  sprang  to  the  road  and  ran  up  to  the 
young  man,  who  had  plainly  been  fighting  and  was 
about  to  fight  again. 

Vesper  slipped  from  his  seat  and  stood  by  the 
wheel. 

"Do  not  follow  her,"  exclaimed  Agapit;  "they 
will  not  hurt  her.  They  would  beat  you." 

"  I  know  it." 

"She  is  my  cousin,  thou  impatient  one,"  pursued 
Agapit,  irritably.  "  I  would  not  allow  her  to  be 
insulted." 

"  I  know  that,  too,"  said  Vesper,  calmly,  and  he 
watched  the  young  men  springing  off  the  fences  and 
hurrying  up  to  Rose,  who  had  taken  the  pugilist  by 
the  hand. 

"  Isidore,"  she  said,  sorrowfully,  and  as  unaffect 
edly  as  if  they  had  been  alone,  "  hast  thou  been 
fighting  again  ?  " 

"  It  is  her  second  cousin,"  growled  Agapit ;  "that 
is  why  she  interferes." 

" Ecoute-moi,  ecoute-moi,  Rose"  (listen  to  me), 
stammered  the  young  man  in  the  blood-stained  shirt. 
"  They  all  set  upon  me.  I  was  about  to  be  massa 
cred.  I  struck  out  but  a  little,  and  I  got  some  taps 
here  and  there.  I  was  drunk  at  first,  but  I  am  not 
very  drunk  now." 

"  Poor  Isidore,  I  will  take  thee  home ;  come  with 
me." 


NEWS   Of    THE    FIERY  FRENCHMAN.          145 

The  crowd  of  men  and  boys  set  up  a  roar.  They 
were  quarrelsome  and  mischievous,  and  had  not  yet 
got  their  fill  of  rowdyism. 

"  Vci-fang,  va-?ang"  (go  away),  "  Rose  a  Charlitte. 
We  want  no  women  here.  Go  home  about  thy  busi 
ness.  If  Big  Fists  wishes  to  fight,  we  will  fight." 

Among  all  the  noisy,  discordant  voices  this  was  the 
only  insulting  one,  and  Rose  turned  and  fixed  her 
mild  gaze  on  the  offender,  who  was  one  of  the  oldest 
men  present,  and  the  chief  mischief-maker  of  the 
neighborhood.  "  But  it  is  not  well  for  all  to  fight 
one  man,"  she  said,  gently. 

"We  fight  one  by  one.  Isidore  is  big, — he  has 
never  enough.  Go  away,  or  there  will  yet  be  a 
bigger  row,"  and  he  added  a  sentence  of  gross 
abuse. 

Vesper  made  a  step  forward,  but  Isidore,  the 
young  bully,  who  was  of  immense  height  and 
breadth,  and  a  son  of  the  old  Acadienne  that  they 
had  just  quitted,  was  before  him. 

"  You  wish  to  fight,  my  friends,"  he  said,  jocu 
larly  ;  "here,  take  this,"  and,  lifting  his  big  foot,  he 
quickly  upset  the  offender,  and  kicked  him  towards 
some  men  in  the  crowd  who  were  also  relatives  of 
Rose. 

One  of  them  sprang  forward,  and,  with  his  dark 
face  alight  with  glee  at  the  chance  to  avenge  the 
affront  offered  to  his  kinswoman,  at  once  proceeded 


146  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

to  beat  the  offender  calmly  and  systematically,  and 
to  roll  him  under  the  fence. 

Rose,  in  great  distress,  attempted  to  go  to  his 
rescue,  but  the  young  giant  threw  his  arm  around 
her.  "  This  is  only  fun,  my  cousin.  Thou  must  not 
spoil  everything.  Come,  I  will  return  with  thee." 

"  Ndni"  (no),  cried  Agapit,  furiously,  "  thou  wilt 
not.  Fit  company  art  thou  for  strangers  !  " 

Isidore  stared  confusedly  at  him,  while  Vesper 
settled  the  question  by  inviting  him  in  the  back  seat 
and  installing  Rose  beside  him.  Then  he  held  out 
his  arms  to  Narcisse,  who  had  been  watching  the 
disturbance  with  drowsy  interest,  fearful  only  that 
the  Englishman  from  Boston  might  leave  him  to  take 
a  hand  in  it. 

As  soon  as  Vesper  mounted  the  seat  beside  him, 
Agapit  jerked  the  reins,  and  set  off  at  a  rapid  pace  ; 
so  rapid  that  Vesper  at  first  caught  only  snatches  of 
the  dialogue  carried  on  behind  him,  that  was  tearful 
on  the  part  of  Rose,  and  meek  on  that  of  Isidore. 

Soon  Agapit  sobered  down,  and  Rose's  words 
could  be  distinguished.  "  My  cousin,  how  canst 
thou  ?  Think  only  of  thy  mother  and  thy  wife ; 
and  the  good  priest,  —  suppose  he  had  come  !  " 

"  Then  thou  wouldst  have  seen  running  like  that 
of  foxes,"  replied  Isidore,  in  good-natured,  semi-inter 
ested  tones. 

"  Thou  wast  not  born  a  drunkard.     When  sober 


NEWS   OF   THE   FIERY  FRENCH  AT  AN.  147 

thou  art  good,  but  there  could  not  be  a  worse  man 
when  drunk.  Such  a  pile  of  cursing  words  to  go  up 
to  the  sky,  —  and  such  a  volley  of  fisting.  Ah,  how 
thou  wast  wounding  Christ !  " 

Isidore  held  on  tightly,  for  Agapit  was  still  driving 
fast,  and  uttered  an  inaudible  reply. 

"Tell  me  where  thou  didst  get  that  liquor,"  said 
Rose. 

"  It  was  a  stolen  cask,  my  cousin." 

"  Isidore  !  " 

"  But  I  did  not  steal  it.  It  came  from  thy  charm 
ing  Bay.  Thou  didst  not  know  that,  shortly  ago, 
a  captain  sailed  to  Sleeping  Water  with  five  casks  of 
rum.  He  hired  a  man  from  the  Concession  to  help 
him  hide  them,  but  the  man  stole  one  cask.  Im 
agine  the  rage  of  the  captain,  but  he  could  not  prose 
cute,  for  it  was  smuggled.  Since  then  we  have  fun 
occasionally." 

"  Who  is  that  bad  man  ?  If  I  knew  where  was  his 
cask,  I  would  take  a  little  nail  and  make  a  hole  in 
it." 

"  Rose,  couldst  thou  expect  me  to  tell  thee  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  warmly.  Then,  remembering 
that  she  had  been  talking  English  to  his  French, 
she  suddenly  relapsed  into  low,  swift  sentences  in 
her  own  tongue,  which  Vesper  could  not  understand. 
He  caught  their  import,  however.  She  was  still 
inveighing  against  the  sin  of  drunkenness  and  was 


148  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

begging  him  to  reform,  and  her  voice  did  not  flag 
until  they  reached  his  home,  where  his  wife  —  a 
young  woman  with  magnificent  eyes  and  a  straight, 
queenly  figure  —  stood  by  the  gate. 

"Bon  soir  (good  evening),  Claudine,"  called  out 
Agapit.  "  We  have  brought  home  Isidore,  who, 
hearing  that  a  distinguished  stranger  was  about  to 
pass  through  the  Concession,  thoughtfully  put  him 
self  on  exhibition  at  the  four  roads.  You  had  bet 
ter  keep  him  at  home  until  La  Gucrricrc  goes  back 
to  Saint  Pierre." 

"  It  was  La  Gucrricrc  that  brought  the  liquor," 
said  Rose,  suddenly,  to  Isidore. 

He  did  not  contradict  her,  and  she  said,  firmly, 
"Never  shall  that  captain  darken  my  doors  again." 

The  young  Acaclien  beauty  gave  Vesper  a  fleeting 
glance,  then  she  said,  bitterly,  "  It  should  rather  be 
Saint  Judas,  for  from  there  the  evil  one  sends  stuff 
to  torture  us  women  -  Here  enter,"  and  half  scorn 
fully,  half  affectionately,  she  extended  a  hand  to  her 
huge  husband,  who  was  making  a  wavering  effort  to 
reach  the  gateway. 

He  clung  to  her  as  if  she  had  been  an  anchor,  and 
when  she  asked  him  what  had  happened  to  his  shirt 
he  stuttered,  regretfully,  "Torn,  Claudine,  —  torn 
again." 

"  How  many  times  should  one  mend  a  shirt  ?  "  she 
asked,  turning  her  big  blazing  eyes  on  Rose. 


NEWS    OF   THE   FIERY  FRENCHMAN.          149 

"  Charlitte  never  became  drunk,"  said  Rose,  in  a 
plaintive  voice,  "but  I  have  mended  the  shirts  of 
my  brothers  at  least  a  hundred  times." 

"Then  I  have  but  one  more  time,"  said  the  youth 
ful  Madame  Kessy.  "  After  that  I  shall  throw  it  in 
the  fire.  Go  into  the  house,  my  husband.  I  was  a 
fool  to  have  married  thee,"  she  added,  under  her 
breath. 

Isidore  stood  tottering  on  his  feet,  and  regarded 
her  with  tipsy  gravity.  "  And  thou  shalt  come  with 
me,  my  pretty  one,  and  make  me  a  hot  supper  and 
sing  me  a  song." 

"  I  will  not  do  that.  Thou  canst  eat  cold  bread, 
and  I  will  sing  thee  a  song  with  my  tongue  that 
will  not  please  thee." 

"The  priest  married  us,"  said  Isidore,  doggedly, 
and  in  momentary  sobriety  he  stalked  to  the  place 
where  she  stood,  picked  her  up,  and,  putting  her  under 
his  arm,  carried  her  into  the  house,  she  meanwhile 
protesting  and  laughing  hysterically  while  she  shrieked 
out  something  to  Rose  about  the  loan  of  a  sleeve 
pattern. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  called  Rose,  "the  big 
sleeve,  with  many  folds  ;  I  will  send  it.  Make  thy 
husband  his  supper  and  come  soon  to  see  me." 

"  Rose,"  said  Agapit,  severely,  as  they  drove  away, 
"  is  it  a  good  thing  to  make  light  of  that  curse  of 
curses  ?  " 


150  ./,  (AV/t    A    CHAKLITTE. 

"  To  make  light  of  it !  Mon  Dicu,  you  do  not 
understand.  It  is  men  who  make  women  laugh  even 
when  their  hearts  are  breaking." 

Agapit  did  not  reply,  and,  as  they  were  about  to 
enter  a  thick  wood,  he  passed  the  reins  to  Vesper  and 
got  out  to  light  the  lamps. 

While  he  was  fidgeting  with  them,  Rose  moved 
around  so  that  she  could  look  into  the  front  seat. 

"  Your  child  is  all  right,"  said  Vesper,  gazing  down 
at  the  head  laid  confidingly  against  his  arm.  "  He 
is  sound  asleep,  —  not  a  bit  alarmed  by  that  fuss." 

"  It  does  not  frighten  him  when  human  beings  cry 
out.  He  only  sorrows  for  things  that  have  no  voices, 
and  he  is  always  right  when  with  you.  It  is  not  that  ; 
I  wish  to  ask  you  — to  ask  you  to  forgive  me." 

"  For  what  ?  " 

"  But  you  know  - —  I  told  you  what  was  not  true." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it.      It  was  a  mere  bagatelle." 

"  It  is  not  a  bagatelle  to  make  untruths,"  she  said, 
wearily,  "  but  I  often  do  it,  —  most  readily  when  I 
am  frightened.  But  you  did  not  frighten  me." 

Vesper  did  not  reply  except  by  a  reassuring  glance, 
which  in  her  preoccupation  she  lost,  and,  catching  her 
breath,  she  went  on,  "  I  think  so  often  of  a  sentence 
from  an  Englishman  that  the  sisters  of  a  convent 
used  to  say  to  us,  —  it  is  about  the  little  lies  as  well 
as  the  big  ones  that  come  from  the  pit." 

"  Do  you  mean   Ruskin  ? "  said  Vesper,  curiously, 


NEWS   OF   THE   FIERY  FRENCHMAN.          l$\ 

"  when  he  speaks  of  '  one  falsity  as  harmless,  and 
another  as  slight,  and  another  as  unintended,  —  cast 
them  all  aside  ;  they  may  be  light  and  accidental,  but 
they  are  ugly  soot  from  the  smoke  of  the  pit  for  all 
that  ?  '" 

"Yes,  yes,  it  is  that,  —  will  you  write  it  for  me  ?  — 
and  remember,"  she  continued,  hurriedly,  as  she  saw 
Agapit  preparing  to  reenter  the  cart,  "  that  I  did  not 
say  what  I  did  to  make  a  fine  tale,  but  for  my  people 
whom  I  love.  You  were  a  stranger,  arid  I  supposed 
you  would  linger  but  a  day  and  then  proceed,  and  it 
is  hard  for  me  to  say  that  the  Acadiens  are  no  better 
than  the  English,  —  that  they  will  get  drunk  and 
fight.  I  did  not  imagine  that  you  would  see  them, 
yet  I  should  not  have  told  the  story,"  and  with  her 
flaxen  head  drooping  on  her  breast  she  turned  away 
from  him. 

"When  is  lying  justifiable?"  asked  Vesper  of 
Agapit. 

The  young  Acadien  plunged  into  a  long  argument 
that  lasted  until  they  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  over 
looking  Sleeping  Water.  Then  he  paused,  and  as  he 
once  more  saw  above  him  the  wide  expanse  of  sky  to 
which  he  was  accustomed,  and  knew  that  before  him 
lay  the  Bay,  wide,  open,  and  free,  he  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"  Ah,  but  I  am  glad  to  arrive  home.  When  I  go 
to  the  woods  it  is  as  if  a  large  window  through  which 


152  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

I  had  been  taking  in  the  whole  world  had  been 
closed." 

No  one  replied  to  him,  and  he  soon  swung  them 
around  the  corner  and  up  to  the  inn  door.  Rose 
led  her  sleepy  boy  into  the  kitchen,  where  bright 
lights  were  burning,  and  where  the  maid  Celina 
seemed  to  be  entertaining  callers.  Vesper  took  the 
lantern  and  followed  Agapit  to  the  stable. 

"Is  it  a  habit  of  yours  to  give  your  hotel  guests 
drives  ?  "  he  ^sked,  hanging  the  lantern  on  a  hook 
and  assisting  Agapit  in  unbuckling  straps. 

"  Yes,  whenever  it  pleases  us.  Many,  also,  hire 
our  horse  and  pony.  You  see  that  we  have  no  com 
mon  horse  in  Toochune." 

"Yes,  I  know  he  is  a  thoroughbred." 

"  Rose,  of  course,  could  not  buy  such  an  animal. 
He  .was  a  gift  from  her  uncle  in  Louisiana.  He  also 
sent  her  this  dog-cart  and  her  organ.  He  is  rich, 
very  rich.  He  went  South  as  a  boy,  and  was  adopted 
by  an  old  farmer  ;  Rose  is  the  daughter  of  his  favor 
ite  sister,  and  I  tell  her  that  she  will  inherit  from 
him,  for  his  wife  is  dead  and  he  is  alone,  but  she 
says  not  to  count  on  what  one  does  not  know." 

Vesper  had  already  been  favored  with  these  items 
of  information  by  his  mother,  so  he  said  nothing, 
and  assisted  Agapit  in  his  task  of  making  long-legged 
Toochune  comfortable  for  the  night.  Having  fin 
ished,  and  being  rewarded  by  a  grateful  glance  from 


NEWS   OF   THE   FIERY  FREATCHA1AN.          153 

the  animal's  lustrous  eyes,  they  both  went  to  the 
pump  outside  and  washed  their  hands. 

"  It  is  too  fine  for  tha  house,"  said  Agapit.  "Are 
you  too  fatigued  to  walk  ?  If  agreeable  I  will  take 
you  to  Sleeping  Water  River,  where  you  have  not 
yet  been,  and  tell  you  how  it  accumulated  its  name. 
There  is  no  one  inside,"  he  continued,  as  Vesper 
cast  a  glance  at  the  kitchen  windows,  "  but  the 
miller  and  his  wife,  in  whom  I  no  longer  take  pleas 
ure,  and  the  mail-driver  who  tells  so  long  stories." 

"  So  long  that  you  have  no  chance." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Agapit,  fumbling  in  his  pocket. 
"  See  what  I  bought  to-day  of  a  travelling  merchant. 
Four  cigars  for  ten  cents.  Two  for  you,  and  two 
for  me.  Shall  we  smoke  them  ?" 

Vesper  took  the  cigars,  slipped  them  in  his 
pocket,  and  brought  out  one  of  his  own,  then  with 
Agapit  took  the  road  leading  back  from  the  village 
to  the  river. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AN    UNHAPPY    RIVER. 

"  Pools  and  shadows  merge 
Beneath  the  branches,  where  the  rushes  lean 

And  stumble  prone ;  and  sad  along  the  verge 
The  marsh-hen  totters.     Strange  the  branches  play 

Above  the  snake-roots  in  the  dark  and  wet, 
Adown  the  hueless  trunks,  this  summer  day. 
Strange  things  the  willows  whisper." 

j.  F.  H. 

"THERE  is  a  story  among  the  old  people,"  said 
Agapit,  "  that  a  band  of  Acadiens,  who  evaded  the 
English  at  the  time  of  the  expulsion,  sailed  into  this 
Bay  in  a  schooner.  They  anchored  opposite  Sleeping 
Water,  and  some  of  the  men  came  ashore  in  a  boat. 
Not  knowing  that  an  English  ship  lay  up  yonder, 
hidden  by  a  point  of  land,  they  pressed  back  into 
the  woods  towards  Sleeping  Water  Lake.  Some  of 
the  English,  also,  were  on  their  way  to  this  lake,  for 
it  is  historic.  The  Acadiens  found  traces  of  them 
and  turned  towards  the  shore,  but  the  English  pur 
sued  over  the  marshes  by  the  river,  which  at  last 
the  Acadiens  must  cross.  They  threw  aside  their 

154 


AN   UNHAPPY  RIVER.  155 

guns  and  jumped  in,  and,  as  one  head  rose  after 
another,  the  English,  standing  on  the  bank,  shot 
until  all  but  one  were  killed.  This  one  was  a  Le 
Blanc,  a  descendant  of  Rene  Le  Blanc,  that  one  reads 
of  in  '  Evangeline.'  Rising  up  on  the  bank,  he  found 
himself  alone.  Figure  the  anguish  of  his  heart, 
-  his  brothers  and  friends  were  dead.  He  would 
never  see  them  again,  and  he  turned  and  stretched 
out  a  hand  in  a  supreme  adieu.  The  English,  who 
would  not  trouble  to  swim,  fired  at  him,  and  called, 
'  Go  to  sleep  with  your  comrades  in  the  river.' 

"'They  sleep,'  he  cried,  'but  they  will  rise  again 
in  their  children,'  and,  quite  untouched  by  their  fire, 
he  ran  to  his  boat,  and,  reaching  the  ship,  set  sail 
to  New  Brunswick  ;  and  in  later  years  his  children 
and  the  children  of  the  murdered  ones  came  back  to 
the  Bay,  and  began  to  call  the  river  Sleeping  Water, 
and,  in  time,  the  lake,  which  was  Queen  Anne's  Lake, 
was  also  changed  to  Sleeping  Water  Lake." 

"  And  the  soldiers  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  you  look  for  vengeance,  but  does  vengeance 
always  come  ?  Remember  the  Persian  distich  : 

"  '  They  came,  conquered,  and  burned, 
Pillaged,  murdered,  and  went.'  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  this  question  thoroughly," 
said  Vesper,  with  irritation,  "yet  from  your  conversa 
tion  it  seems  not  so  barbarous  a  thing  that  the  Aca- 


156  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTR. 

diens  should  have  been  transported  as  that  those  who 
remained  should  have  been  so  persecuted." 

"  Now  is  your  time  to  read  '  Richard.'  I  have  long 
been  waiting  for  your  health  to  be  restored,  for  it  is 
exciting." 

"  That  is  the  Acadien  historian  you  have  spoken 
of?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  when  you* read  him  you  will  understand 
my  joy  at  the  venerable  letter  you  showed  me.  You 
will  see  why  we  blame  the  guilty  Lawrence  and  his 
colleagues,  and  not  England  herself,  for  the  wicked 
ness  wrought  her  French  children." 

Vesper  smoked  out  his  cigar  in  silence.  They  had 
left  the  village  street  some  distance  behind  them,  and 
were  now  walking  along  a  flat,  narrow  road,  having  a 
thick,  hedge-like  border  of  tangled  bushes  and  wild 
flowers  that  were  agitated  by  a  gentle  breeze,  and 
waved  out  a  sweet,  faint  perfume  on  the  night  air. 
On  either  side  of  them  were  low,  grassy  marshes, 
screened  by  clumps  of  green. 

"  We  are  arrived  at  last,"  said  Agapit,  pausing  on 
a  rustic  bridge  that  spanned  the  road  ;  "  and  down 
there,"  he  went  on,  in  a  choking  voice,  "is  where  the 
bones  of  my  countrymen  lie." 

Vesper  leaned  over  the  railing.  What  a  sluggish, 
silent,  stealthy  river !  He  could  perceive  no  flow  in 
its  reluctant  waters.  A  few  willows,  natives,  not 
French  ones,  swayed  above  it,  and  close  to  its  edge 


AN   UNHAPPY  Rfl'ER. 

grew  the  tall  grasses,  rustling  and  whispering  together 
as  if  imparting  guilty  secrets  concerning  the  waters 
below. 

"  Which  way  does  it  go  ?  "  murmured  Vesper  ;  but 
Agapit  did  not  hear  him,  for  he  was  eagerly  mutter 
ing  :  "  A  hateful  river,  —  I  never  see  a  bird  drink 
from  it,  there  are  no  fishes  in  it,  the  lilies  will  not 
grow  here,  and  the  children  fall  in  and  are  drowned  ; 
and,  though  it  has  often  been  sounded,  they  can  find 
no  bottom  to  it." 

Vesper  stared  below  in  silence,  only  making  an  in 
voluntary  movement  when  his  companion's  cap  fell 
off  and  struck  the  face  of  the  dull  black  mirror  pre 
sented  to  them. 

"  Let  it  go,"  exclaimed  Agapit,  with  a  shudder. 
"  Poor  as  I  am,  I  would  not  wear  it  now.  It  is 
tainted,"  and  flinging  back  the  dark  locks  from 
his  forehead,  he  turned  his  face  towards  the  shore. 

"  No,  I  will  talk  no  more  about  the  Acadiens,"  he 
said,  when  Vesper  tried  to  get  him  to  enter  upon  his 
favorite  theme,  "  for,  though  you  are  polite,  I  fear  I 
shall  weary  you  ;  w*e  will  speak  of  other  things." 

The  night  was  a  perfect  one,  and  for  an  hour  the 
two  young  men  walked  up  and  down  the  quiet  road 
before  the  inn,  talking  at  first  of  the  fishing  that  was 
over,  and  the  hunting  that  would  in  a  few  weeks  be 
gin. 

Vesper  would  have  enjoyed  seeking  big  game  in 


158  ROSE   A    CIIARLITTR. 

the  backwoods,  if  his  health  had  permitted,  and  he 
listened  with  suppressed  eagerness  to  Agapit's  ac 
count  of  a  moose  hunt.  The  world  of  sport  disposed 
of,  their  conversation  drifted  to  literature,  to  science 
and  art  in  general,  — to  women  and  love  affairs,  and 
Agapit  rambled  on  excitedly  and  delightedly,  while 
Vesper,  contenting  himself  with  the  briefest  of  re 
joinders,  extracted  an  acute  and  amused  interest 
from  the  entirely  novel  and  out-of-the-way  opinions 
presented  to  him. 

"  Ah  !  but  I  enjoy  this,"  said  Agapit,  at  last ;  "  it  is 
the  fault  of  my  countrymen  that  they  do  not  read 
enough  and  study,  —  their  sole  fault.  I  meet  with 
so  few  who  will  discuss,  yet  I  must  not  detain  you. 
Come  in,  come  in,  and  I  will  give  you  my  'Richard.' 
Begin  not  to  read  him  to-night,  for  you  could  not 
sleep.  I  believe,"  and  he  raised  his  brown,  flushed 
face  to  the  stars  above,  "that  he  has  done  justice  to 
the  Acadien  people  ;  but  remember,  we  do  not  com 
plain  now.  We  are  faithful  to  our  sovereign  and  to 
our  country,  — as  faithful  as  you  are  to  your  Union. 
The  smart  of  the  past  is  over.  We  ask  only  that  the 
world  may  believe  that  the  Acadiens  were  loyal  and 
consistent,  and  that  we  do  not  wish  for  reparation 
from  England  except,  perhaps  —  "  and  he  hesitated 
and  looked  down  at  the  shabby  sleeve  of  his  coat, 
while  tears  filled  his  eyes.  "  Man  Dieu  !  I  will  not 
speak  of  the  pitiful  economies  that  I  am  obliged  to 


AN   UNHAPPY  RIVER.  159 

practise  to  educate  myself.  And  there  are  other 
young  men  more  poor.  If  the  colonial  government 
would  give  us  some  help,  I  would  go  to  college  ;  for 
now  I  hesitate  lest  I  should  save  my  money  for  my 
family.  If  the  good  lands  that  were  taken  from  us 
were  now  ours,  we  should  be  rich  — 

Vesper  liked  the  young  Acadien  best  in  his  quiet 
moods.  "  Don't  worry,"  he  said,  consolingly  ;  "  some 
thing  will  turn  up.  Get  me  that  book,  will  you  ? " 

Vesper  paused  for  an  instant  when  he  entered  his 
room.  On  a  table  by  his  bed  was  placed  a  tray,  cov 
ered  by  a  napkin.  Lifting  the  napkin,  he  discovered 
a  wing  of  cold  chicken  with  jelly,  thin  slices  of  bread 
and  butter,  and  a  covered  pitcher  of  chocolate. 

He  poured  himself  out  a  cup  of  the  chocolate,  and 
murmuring,  "  Here's  to  the  Lady  of  the  Sleeping 
Water  Inn,"  seized  one  of  the  two  volumes  that 
Agapit  had  given  him,  and,  throwing  himself  into  an 
easy  chair,  began  to  read. 

One  by  one  the  hours  slipped  away,  but  he  did 
not  move  in  his  chair,  except  to  put  out  a  hand  at 
regular  intervals  and  turn  a  leaf.  Shortly  before 
daybreak  a  chill  wind  blew  up  the  Bay,  and  came 
floating  in  the  window.  He  threw  down  the  book, 
rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  and  looked  about  him  in  a 
dreamy  way.  He  had  been  transported  to  a  previous 
century  and  to  another  atmosphere  than  this  peaceful 
one. 


I6O  KOSK    .1    CHARI.-TTTE. 

He  shivered  sensitively,  and,  going  to  the  window, 
closed  it,  and  stood  gazing  at  the  faint  flush  in  the 
sky.  "  O  God  !  it  is  true,"  he  muttered,  drearily, 
"  we  are  sent  into  this  world  to  enact  hell.  Goethe 
understood  that.  And  what  a  hell  of  long  years  was 
enacted  on  these  shores  !  " 

"The  devils,"  he  went  on,  in  youthful,  generous 
indignation ;  "  they  had  no  pity,  not  even  after 
years  of  suffering  on  the  part  of  their  victims." 

His  eyes  smarted,  his  head  ached.  He  put  his 
hand  to  his  eyes,  and,  when  it  came  away  wet,  he 
curled  his  lip.  He  had  not  shed  tears  since  he  was 
a  boy.. 

Then  he  threw  himself  on  his  bed,  and  thoughts 
of  his  father  mingled  with  those  of  the  Acadiens. 
An  invincible  melancholy  took  possession  of  him, 
and  burying  his  face  in  his  arms,  he  lay  for  a  long 
time  with  his  whole  frame  quivering  in  emotion. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

AN    ILLUMINATION. 
"  Sait-on  ou  Ton  va?" 

"  WHAT  a  sleeper,  what  a  lover  of  his  bed  !  "  ex 
claimed  Agapit,  the  next  morning,  as  he  rapped  vig 
orously  on  Vesper's  door.  "  Is  he  never  going  to 
rise  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  said  a  voice  from  within. 

"  I,  Agapit,  latest  and  warmest  of  your  friends, 
apologize  for  disturbing  you,  but  am  forced  to  ask  a 
question." 

"  Come  in  ;  the  door  is  not  locked." 

Agapit  thrust  his  head  in.  "Did  you  sit  late 
reading  my  books  ?  " 

Vesper  lifted  his  closely  cropped  curly  head  from 
the  pillow.  "  Yes." 

"  And  did  not  your  heart  stir  with  pity  for  the 
unfortunate  Acadiens  ? " 

"  I  found  the  history  interesting." 

"  I  wept  over  it  at  my  first  reading,  —  I  gnashed 
my  teeth ;  but  come,  —  will  you  not  go  to  the  picnic 
with  us  ?  All  the  Bay  is  going,  as  the  two  former 
days  of  it  were  dull." 

161 


1 62  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  I  had  forgotten  it.  Does  my  mother  wish  to 
go?" 

"  Madame,  your  mother,  is  already  prepared.  See 
from  your  window,  she  talks  to  the  mail-driver,  who 
never  tires  of  her  adorable  French.  Do  you  know, 
this  morning  he  came  herding  down  the  road  three 
shy  children,  who  were  triplets.  She  was  charmed, 
having  never  seen  more  than  twins." 

Vesper  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and  glanced 
through  the  window  at  Monsieur  de  la  Rive,  who, 
with  his  bright  wings  folded  close  to  his  sides,  was 
cheeping  voluble  remarks  to  Mrs.  Nimmo. 

"  All  right,  I  will  go,"  he  said. 

Agapit  hurried  down-stairs,  and  Vesper  began  to 
dress  himself  in  a  leisurely  way,  stopping  frequently 
to  go  to  the  window  and  gaze  dreamily  out  at  the 
Bay. 

Soon  Rose  came  to  the  kitchen  door  to  feed  her 
hens.  She  looked  so  lovely,  as  she  stood  with  her 
resplendent  head  in  a  blaze  of  sunlight,  that  Vesper's 
fingers  paused  in  the  act  of  fastening  his  necktie,  and 
he  stood  still  to  watch  her. 

Presently  the  mail-driver  went  streaking  down  the 
road  in  fiery  flight,  and  Mrs.  Nimmo,  seeing  Rose 
alone,  came  tripping  towards  her.  To  her  son,  who 
understood  her  perfectly,  there  were  visible  in  Mrs. 
Nimmo's  manner  some  sure  and  certain  signs  of  an 
inward  disturbance.  Rose,  however,  perceived  noth- 


AN  ILLUMINATION.  163 

ing,  and  continued  feeding  her  hens  with  her  usual 
grace  and  composure. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  the  picnic  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Nimmo,  and  her  eye  ran  over  the  simple  cotton 
gown  that  Rose  always  wore  in  the  morning. 

"  Yes,  madame,  but  first  I  do  my  work." 

"  You  will   be  glad  to  see  your  friends  there,  — 
and  your  family  ?  " 

"Ah,  yes,  madame,  —  it  is  such  a  pleasure." 

"I  should  like  sec  your  sister,  Perside." 

"  I  will  present  her,  madame ;  she  will  be 
honored." 

"  And  it  is  she  that  the  blacksmith  is  going  to 
marry  ?  Do  you  know,"  and  Mrs.  Nimmo  laughed 
tremulously,  "  I  have  been  thinking  all  the  time  that 
it  was  you." 

"Now  I  get  at  the  cause  of  your  discontent," 
soliloquized  Vesper,  above,  "my  poor  little  mother." 

Rose  surveyed  her  companion  in  astonishment  :  "  I 
thought  all  the  Bay  knew." 

"  But  I  am  not  the  Bay,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  with 
attempted  playfulness  ;  "  I  am  Boston." 

A  shadow  crossed  Rose's  face.  "Yes,  madame,  I 
know.  I  might  have  told  you,  but  I  did  not  think  ; 
and  you  are  delicate,  — you  would  not  ask." 

"  No,  I  am  not  delicate,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  hon 
estly.  "  I  am  inclined  to  be  curious,  or  interested  in 
other  people,  we  will  say,  —  I  think  you  are  very 


164  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

kind  to  be  making  matrimonial  plans  for  other  young 
women,  and  not  to  think  of  yourself." 

"Madame?" 

"You  do  not  know  that  long  word.  It  means 
pertaining  to  marriage." 

"  Ah  !  marriage,  I  understand  that.  But,  lately,  I 
resolve  not  to  marry,"  and  Rose  turned  her  deep 
blue  eyes,  in  which  there  was  not  a  trace  of  craft  or 
deceit,  on  her  nervously  apprehensive  interlocutor, 
while  Vesper  murmured  in  the  window  above,  "  She 
is  absolutely  guileless,  my  mother  ;  cast  out  of  your 
mind  that  vague  and  formless  suspicion." 

Mrs.  Nimmo,  however,  preferred  to  keep  the  sus 
picion,  and  not  only  to  keep  it,  but  to  foster  the 
stealthy  creeping  thing  until  it  had  taken  on  the 
rudiments  of  organized  reflection. 

"Some  young  people  do  not  care  for  marriage," 
she  said,  after  a  long  pause.  "  My  son  never  has." 

"  May  the  Lord  forgive  you  for  that,"  ejaculated 
her  son,  piously.  Then  he  listened  for  Rose's 
response,  which  was  given  with  deep  respect  and 
humility.  "  He  is  devoted  to  you,  madame.  It  is 
pleasant  to  see  a  son  thus." 

"  He  is  a  dear  boy,  and  it  would  kill  me  if  he  were 
to  leave  me.  I  am  glad  that  you  appreciate  him,  and 
that  he  has  found  this  place  so  interesting.  We  shall 
hate  to  leave  here." 

"  Must  you  go  soon,  madame  ? " 


AN  ILLUMINATION.  165 

"  Pretty  soon,  I  think  ;  as  soon  as  my  son  finishes 
this  quest  of  his.  You  know  it  is  very  quiet  here. 
You  like  it  because  it  is  your  home,  but  we,  of 
course,  are  accustomed  to  a  different  life." 

"  I  know  that,  madame,"  said  Rose,  sadly,  "and  it 
will  seem  yet  more  quiet  when  we  do  not  see  you. 
I  dread  the  long  days." 

"  I  daresay  we  may  come  back  sometime.  My 
son  likes  to  revisit  favorite  spots,  and  the  strong  air 
of  the  Bay  certainly  agrees  wonderfully  with  him. 
He  is  sleeping  like  a  baby  this  morning.  I  must  go 
now  and  see  if  he  is  up.  Thank  you  for  speaking  so 
frankly  to  me  about  yourself.  Do  you  know,  I  be 
lieve  you  agree  with  me,"  —and  Mrs.  Nimmo  leaned 
confidentially  towards  her,  —  "  that  it  is  a  perfectly 
wicked  thing  for  a  widow  to  marry  again,"  and  she 
tripped  away,  folding  about  her  the  white  shawl  she 
always  wore. 

Rose  gazed  after  her  retreating  form  with  a  face 
that  was,  for  a  time,  wholly  mystified. 

By  degrees,  her  expression  became  clearer. 
"Good  heavens!  she  understands,"  muttered  Ves 
per  ;  "  now  let  us  see  if  there  will  be  any  resent 
ment." 

There  was  none.  A  vivid,  agonized  blush  over 
spread  Rose's  cheeks.  She  let  the  last  remnant  of 
food  slip  to  the  expectant  hens  from  her  two  hands, 
that  suddenly  went  out  in  a  gesture  of  acute  dis- 


1 66  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

tress  ;  but  the  glance  that  she  bestowed  on  Mrs. 
Nimmo,  who  was  just  vanishing  around  the  corner  of 
the  house,  was  one  of  saintly  magnanimity,  with  not 
a  trace  of  pride  or  rebellion  in  it. 

Vesper  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left  the  win 
dow.  "  Strange  that  the  best  of  women  will  worry 
each  other,"  and  philosophically  proceeding  with  his 
toilet,  he  shortly  after  went  down-stairs. 

After  a  breakfast  that  was  not  scanty,  as  his 
breakfasts  had  been  before  his  illness,  but  one  that 
was  comprehensive  and  eaten  with  good  appetite,  he 
made  his  way  to  the  parlor,  where  his  mother  was 
sitting  among  a  number  of  vivacious  Acadiens. 

Rose,  slim  and  elegant  in  a  new  black  gown,  and 
having  on  her  head  a  small  straw  hat,  with  a  dotted 
veil  drawn  neatly  over  her  pink  cheeks  and  mass  of 
light  hair,  was  receiving  other  young  men  and  women 
who  were  arriving,  while  Agapit,  burly,  and  almost 
handsome  in  his  Sunday  suit  of  black  serge,  was 
bustling  about,  and,  immediately  pouncing  upon 
Vesper,  introduced  him  to  each  member  of  the 
party. 

The  young  American  did  not  care  to  talk.  He 
returned  to  the  doorway,  and,  loitering  there,  amused 
himself  by  comparing  the  Acadiens  who  had  re 
mained  at  home  with  those  who  had  gone  out  into 
the  world. 

The    latter    were    dressed    more  gaily ;    they  had 


AN  ILLUMINATION.  1 67 

more  assurance,  and,  in  nearly  every  case,  less  charm 
of  manner  than  the  former.  There  was  Rose's  aunt, 
—  white-haired  Madame  Pitre.  She  was  like  a 
sweet  and  demure  little  owl  in  her  hood-like  handker 
chief  and  plain  gown.  Amandine,  her  daughter  who 
had  never  left  the  Bay,  was  a  second  little  owl ; 
but  the  sisters  Diane  and  Lucie,  factory  girls  from 
Worcester,  were  overdressed  birds  of  paradise,  in 
their  rustling  silk  blouses,  big  plumed  hats,  and  self- 
conscious  manners. 

"  Here,  at  last,  is  the  wagon,"  cried  Agapit,  run 
ning  to  the  door,  as  a  huge,  six-seated  vehicle,  drawn 
by  four  horses,  appeared.  He  made  haste  to  assist 
his  friends  and  relatives  into  it,  then,  darting  to 
Vesper,  who  stood  on  the  veranda,  exclaimed,  "The 
most  honorable  seat  beside  me  is  for  madame,  your 
mother." 

"  Do  you  care  to  go  ?  "  asked  Vesper,  addressing 
her." 

"  I  should  like  to  go  to  the  picnic,  but  could  you 
not  drive  me  ?  " 

"But  certainly  he  can,"  exclaimed  Agapit.  "Too- 
chune  is  in  the  stable.  Possibly  this  big  wagon 
would  be  noisy  for  madame.  I  will  go  and  har 
ness." 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Vesper, 
laying  a  detaining  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  You  go 
on.  We  will  follow." 


1 68  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Agapit  nodded  gaily,  and  sprang  to  the  box,  while 
Rose  bent  her  flushed  face  over  Narcisse,  who  set  up 
a  sudden  wail  of  despair.  "  He  is  coming,  my  child. 
Thou  knowest  he  does  not  break  his  promises." 

Narcisse  raised  his  fist  as  if  to  strike  her  ;  he  was 
in  a  fury  at  being  restrained,  and,  although  ordinarily 
a  shy  child,  he  was  at  present  utterly  regardless  of 
the  strangers  about  him. 

"  Stop,  stop,  Agapit  !  "  cried  Diane  ;  "he  will  cast 
himself  over  the  wheel  !  " 

Agapit  pulled  up  the  horses,  and  Vesper,  hearing 
the  disturbance,  and  knowing  the  cause,  came  saun 
tering  after  the  wagon,  with  a  broad  smile  on  his  face. 

He  became  grave,  however,  when  he  saw  Rose's 
pained  expression.  "I  think  it  better  not  to  yield," 
she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Calm  thyself,  Narcisse, 
thou  shalt  not  get  out." 

"I  will,"  gasped  the  child.  "You  are  a  bad 
mother.  The  Englishman  may  run  away  if  I  leave 
him.  You  know  he  is  going." 

"Let  me  have  him  for  a  minute,"  said  Vesper. 
"I  will  talk  to  him,"  and,  reaching  out  his  arms,  he 
took  the  child  from  the  blacksmith,  who  swung  him 
over  the  side  of  the  wagon. 

"Come  get  a  drink  of  water,"  said  the  young 
American,  good-humoredly.  "  Your  little  face  is  as 
red  as  a  turkey-cock's." 

Narcisse  pressed    his    hot    forehead    to    Vesper's 


AN  ILLUMINATION.  169 

cheek,  and  meekly  allowed  himself  to  be  carried  into 
the  house. 

"  Now  don't  be  a  baby,"  said  Vesper,  putting  him 
on  the  kitchen  sink,  and  holding  a  glass  of  water  to 
his  lips  ;  "  I  am  coming  after  you  in  half  an  hour." 

"  Will  you  not  run  away  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Vesper,  "  I  will  not." 

Narcisse  gave  him  a  searching  look.  "  I  believe 
you  ;  but  my  mother  once  said  to  me  that  I  should 
have  a  ball,  and  she  did  not  give  it." 

"  What  is  it  that  the  Englishman  has  done  to  the 
child?"  whispered  Madame  Pitre  to  her  neighbor, 
when  Vesper  brought  back  the  quiet  and  composed 
Narcisse  and  handed  him  to  his  mother.  "  It  is  like 
magic." 

"  It  is  rather  that  the  child  needs  a  father,"  re 
plied  the  young  Acadienne  addressed.  "  Rose  should 
marry." 

"  I  wish  the  Englishman  was  poor,"  muttered 
Madame  Pitre,  "  and  also  Acadien  ;  but  he  does  not 
think  of  Rose,  and  Acadiens  do  not  marry  out  of 
their  race." 

Vesper  watched  them  out  of  sight,  and  then  he 
found  that  Agapit  had  spoken  truly  when  he  said 
that  all  the  Bay  was  going  to  the  picnic.  Celina's 
mother,  a  brown-faced,  vigorous  old  woman  who  was 
to  take  charge  of  the  inn  for  the  day,  was  the  only 
person  to  be  seen,  and  he  therefore  went  himself 


I/O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

to  the  stable  and  harnessed  Toochune  to  the  dog 
cart. 

Celina's  mother  admiringly  watched  the  dog-cart 
joining  the  procession  of  bicycles,  buggies,  two- 
wheeled  carts,  and  big  family  wagons  going  down 
the  Bay,  and  fancied  that  its  occupants  must  be 
extremely  happy. 

Mrs.  Nimmo,  however,  was  not  happy,  and  noth 
ing  distracted  her  attention  from  her  own  teasing 
thoughts.  She  listened  abstractedly  to  the  merry 
chatter  of  French  in  the  air,  and  gazed  disconso 
lately  at  the  gloriously  sunny  Bay,  where  a  few  dis 
tant  schooner  sails  stood  up  sharp  against  the  sky 
like  the  white  wings  of  birds. 

At  last  she  sighed  heavily,  and  said,  in  a  plaintive 
voice,  "  Vesper,  are  you  not  getting  tired  of  Sleeping 
Water  ?  " 

He  flicked  his  whip  at  a  fly  that  was  torturing 
Toochune,  then  said,  calmly,  "  No,  I  am  not." 

"  I  never  saw  you  so  interested  in  a  place,"  she 
observed,  with  a  fretful  side  glance.  "The  travelling 
agents  and  loquacious  peasants  never  seem  to  bore 
you." 

"  But  I  do  not  talk  to  the  agents,  and  I  do  not 
find  the  others  loquacious  ;  neither  would  I  call  them 
peasants." 

"  It  doesn't  matter  what  you  call  them.  They  are 
all  beneath  you." 


AN  ILLUMINATION.  I?I 

Vesper  looked  meditatively  across  the  Bay  at  a 
zigzag,  woolly  trail  of  smoke  made  by  a  steamer  that 
was  going  back  and  forth  in  a  distressed  way,  as  if 
unable  to  find  the  narrow  passage  that  led  to  the  Bay 
of  Fundy. 

"  The  Checkertons  have  gone  to  the  White  Moun 
tains,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  in  a  vexed  tone,  as  if  the 
thought  gave  her  no  pleasure.  "  I  should  like  to 
join  them  there." 

"Very  well,  we  can  leave  here  to-morrow." 
Her  face  brightened.      "  But  your  business  ?  " 
"  I  can  send  some  one  to  look  after  it,  or  Agapit 
would  attend  to  it." 

"  And  you  would  not  need  to  come  back  ?  " 
"  Not  necessarily.     I  might  do  so,  however." 
"  In    the    event    of    some    of  the    LeNoirs  being 
found  ? " 

"  In  the  event  of  my  not  being  able  to  exist  with 
out  —  the  Bay." 

"  Give  me  the  Charles  River,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo, 
hastily.  "  It  is  worth  fifty  Bays." 

"To  me  also,"  said  Vesper;  "but  there  is  one 
family  here  that  I  should  like  to  transplant  to  the 
banks  of  the  Charles." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  did  not  speak  until  they  had  passed 
through  long  Comeauville  and  longer  Saulnierville, 
and  were  entering  peaceful  Meteghan  River  with  its 
quietly  flowing  stream  and  grassy  meadows.  Then 


1/2  KOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

having  partly  subdued  the  first  shock  of  having  a 
horror  of  such  magnitude  presented  to  her,  she 
murmured,  "  Are  you  sure  that  you  know  your 
own  mind  ? " 

"Quite  sure,  mother,"  he  said,  earnestly  and  affec 
tionately  ;  "  but  now,  as  always,  my  first  duty  is  to 
you." 

Tears  sprang  to  her  eyes,  and  ran  quietly  down 
her  cheeks.  "  When  you  lay  ill,"  she  said,  in  a 
repressed  voice,  "I  sat  by  you.  I  prayed  to  God 
to  spare  your  life.  I  vowed  that  I  would  do  any 
thing  to  please  you,  yet,  now  that  you  are  well,  I 
cannot  bear  the  idea  of  giving  you  up  to  another 
woman." 

Vesper  looked  over  his  shoulder,  then  guided 
Toochune  up  by  one  of  the  gay  gardens  before 
the  never-ending  row  of  houses  in  order  to  allow  a 
hay-wagon  to  pass  them.  When  they  were  again  in 
the  middle  of  the  road,  he  said,  "  I,  too,  had  serious 
thoughts  when  I  was  ill,  but  you  know  how  difficult 
it  is  for  me  to  speak  of  the  things  nearest  my  heart." 

"  I  know  that  you  are  a  good  son,"  she  said,  pas 
sionately.  "  You  would  give  up  the  woman  of  your 
choice  for  my  sake,  but  I  would  not  allow  it,  for  it 
would  make  you  hate  me,  —  I  have  seen  so  much 
trouble  in  families  where  mothers  have  opposed  their 
sons'  marriages.  It  does  no  good,  and  then  —  I  do 
not  want  you  to  be  a  lonely  old  man  when  I'm  gone." 


AN  ILLUMINATION.  173 

"Mother,"  he  said,  protestingly. 

"How  did  it  happen?"  she  asked,  suddenly  com 
posing  herself,  and  dabbing  at  her  face  with  her 
handkerchief. 

Vesper's  face  grew  pale,  and,  after  a  short  hesi 
tation,  he  said,  dreamily,  "I  scarcely  know.  She 
has  become  mixed  up  with  my  life  in  an  imper 
ceptible  way,  and  there  is  an  inexpressible  something 
about  her  that  I  have  never  found  in  any  other 
woman." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  struggled  with  a  dozen  conflicting 
thoughts.  Then  she  sighed,  miserably,  "  Have  you 
asked  her  to  marry  you?" 

"No." 

"  But  you  will  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said,  reluctantly.  "  I  have 
nothing  planned.  I  wish  to  tell  you,  to  save  mis 
understandings." 

"  She  has  some  crotchet  against  marriage,  —  she 
told  me  so  this  morning.  Do  you  know  what 
it  is?" 

"  I  can  guess." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  pondered  a  minute.  "  She  has  fallen 
in  love  with  you,"  she  said  at  last,  "and  because  she 
thinks  you  will  not  marry  her,  she  will  have  no  other 
man." 

"  I  think  you  scarcely  understand  her.  She  does 
not  understand  herself." 


ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Mrs.  Nimmo  uttered  a  soft,  "  Nonsense !  "  under 
her  breath. 

"Suppose  we  drop  the  matter  for  a  time,"  said 
Vesper,  in  acute  sensitiveness.  "  It  is  in  an  incipient 
state  as  yet." 

"  I  know  you  better  than  to  suppose  that  it  will 
remain  incipient,"  said  his  mother,  despairingly. 
"  You  never  give  anything  up.  But,  as  you  say, 
we  had  better  not  talk  any  more  about  it.  It  has 
given  me  a  terrible  shock,  and  I  will  need  time  to 
get  over  it,  —  I  thank  you  for  telling  me,  however," 
and  she  silently  directed  her  attention  to  the  distant 
red  cathedral  spire,  and  the  white  houses  of  Mete- 
ghan, — the  place  where  the  picnic  was  being  held. 

They  caught  up  with  the  big  wagon  just  before  it 
reached  a  large  brown  building,  surrounded  by  a 
garden  and  pleasure-grounds,  and  situated  some 
distance  from  the  road.  This  was  the  convent, 
and  Vesper  knew  that,  within  its  quiet  walls,  Rose 
had  received  the  education  that  had  added  to  her 
native  grace  the  gentle  savoir  faire  that  reminded 
him  of  convent-bred  girls  that  he  had  met  abroad, 
and  that  made  her  seem  more  like  the  denizen  of 
a  city  than  the  mistress  of  a  little  country  inn. 

In  front  of  the  convent  the  road  was  almost 
blocked  by  vehicles.  Rows  of  horses  stood  with 
their  heads  tied  to  its  garden  fence,  and  bicycles 
by  the  dozen  were  ranged  in  the  shadow  of  its 


AN  ILLUMINATION.  1/5 

big  trees.  Across  the  road  from  it  a  green  field 
had  been  surrounded  by  a  hedge  of  young  spruce 
trees,  and  from  this  enclosure  sounds  of  music  and 
merrymaking  could  be  heard.  A  continual  stream 
of  people  kept  pouring  in  at  the  entrance-gate,  with 
out,  however,  making  much  diminution  in  the  crowd 
outside. 

Agapit  requested  his  passengers  to  alight,  then, 
accompanied  by  one  of  the  young  men  of  his  party, 
who  took  charge  of  Vesper's  horse,  he  drove  to  a 
near  stable.  Five  minutes  later  he  returned,  and 
found  his  companions  drawn  up  together  watching 
Acadien  boys  and  girls  flock  into  the  saloon  of  a 
travelling  photographer. 

"There  is  now  no  time  for  picture-taking,"  he 
vociferated  ;  "  come,  let  us  enter.  See,  I  have  tick 
ets,"  and  he  proudly  marshalled  his  small  army  up  to 
the  gate,  and  entered  the  picnic  grounds  at  their 
head. 

They  found  Vesper  and  his  mother  inside.  This 
ecclesiastical  fair  going  on  under  the  convent  walls, 
and  almost  in  the  shadow  of  the  red  cathedral,  re 
minded  them  of  the  fairs  of  history.  Here,  as  there, 
no  policemen  were  needed  among  the  throngs  of 
buyers  and  sellers,  who  strolled  around  and  around 
the  grassy  enclosure,  and  examined  the  wares  exhib 
ited  in  verdant  booths.  Good  order  was  ensured  by 
the  presence  of  several  priests,  who  were  greeted 


ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

with  courtesy  and  reverence  by  all.  Agapit,  who 
was  a  devout  Catholic,  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  hand 
until  his  own  parish  priest  had  passed  ;  then  his  eyes 
fell  on  the  essentially  modern  and  central  object  in 
the  fair  grounds,  —  a  huge  merry-go-round  from  Bos 
ton,  with  brightly  painted  blue  seats,  to  which  a  load 
of  Acadien  children  clung  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight,  as 
they  felt  themselves  being  madly  whirled  through  the 
air. 

"Let  us  all  ride!"  he  exclaimed.  "Come,  show 
man,  give  us  the  next  turn." 

The  wheezing,  panting  engine  stopped,  and  they 
all  mounted,  even  Madame  Pitre,  who  shivered  with 
delicious  apprehension,  and  Mrs.  Nimmo,  who  whis 
pered  in  her  son's  ear,  "  I  never  did  such  a  thing 
before,  but  in  Acadie  one  must  do  as  the  Acadiens  do." 

Vesper  sat  down  beside  her,  and  took  the  slightly 
dubious  Narcisse  on  his  knee,  holding  him  closely 
when  an  expression  of  fear  flitted  over  his  delicate 
features,  and  encouraging  him  to  sit  upright  when 
at  last  he  became  more  bold. 

"Another  turn,"  shouted  Agapit,  when  the  music 
ceased,  and  they  were  again  stationary.  The  whistle 
blew,  and  they  all  set  out  again  ;  but  no  one  wished 
to  attempt  a  third  round,  and,  giddily  stumbling  over 
each  other,  they  dismounted  and  with  laughing 
remarks  wandered  to  another  part  of  the  grounds, 
where  dancing  was  going  on  in  two  spruce  arbors. 


AN  ILLUMINATION. 

"  It  is  necessary  for  all  to  join,"  he  proclaimed,  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  but  his  best  persuasions  failed 
to  induce  either  Rose  or  Vesper  to  step  into  the 
arbors,  where  two  young  Acadiens  sat  perched  up  in 
two  corners,  and  gleefully  tuned  their  fiddles. 

"  She  will  not  dance,  because  she  wishes  to  make 
herself  singular,"  reflected  Mrs.'Nimmo,  bitterly,  and 
Vesper,  who  felt  the  unspoken  thought  as  keenly  as 
if  it  had  been  uttered,  moved  a  step  nearer  Rose, 
who  modestly  stood  apart  from  them. 

Agapit  flung  down  his  money,  —  ten  cents  apiece 
for  each  dance, —  and,  ordering  his  associates  to 
choose  their  partners,  signed  to  the  fiddlers  to  begin. 

Mrs.  Nimmo  forgot  Rose  for  a  time,  as  she  watched 
the  dancers.  The  girls  were  shy  and  demure ;  the 
young  men  danced  lustily,  and  with  great  spirit, 
emphasizing  the  first  note  of  each  bar  by  a  stamp  on 
the  floor,  and  beating  a  kind  of  tattoo  with  one  foot, 
when  not  taking  part  in  the  quadrille. 

"  Do  you  have  only  square  dances  ?  "  she  asked 
Madame  Pitre,  when  a  second  and  a  third  quadrille 
were  succeeded  by  a  fourth. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Acadienne,  gravely.  "There  is  no 
sin  in  a  quadrille.  There  is  in  a  waltz." 

"  Come  seek  the  lunch-tables,"  said  Agapit,  pres 
ently  bursting  out  on  them,  and  mopping  his  perspir 
ing  face  with  his  handkerchief.  "  Most  ambrosial 
dainties  are  known  to  the  cooks  of  this  parish." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

WITH    THE    OLD    ONES. 

"  The  fresh  salt  breezes  mingle  with  the  smell 
Of  clover  fields  and  ripened  hay  beside ; 
And  Nature,  musing,  happy  and  serene, 
Hath  here  for  willing  man  her  sweetest  spell." 

j.  F.  H. 

AFTER  lunch,  the  Sleeping  Water  party  separated. 
The  Pitres  found  some  old  friends  from  up  the  Bay. 
Agapit  wandered  away  with  some  young  men,  and 
Vesper,  lazily  declining  to  saunter  with  them,  stood 
leaning  against  a  tree  behind  a  bench  on  which  his 
mother  and  Rose  were  seated. 

The  latter  received  and  exchanged  numerous 
greetings  with  her  acquaintances  who  passed  by, 
sometimes  detaining  them  for  an  introduction  to 
Mrs.  Nimmo,  who  was  making  a  supreme  effort 
to  be  gracious  and  agreeable  to  the  woman  that  the 
fates  had  apparently  destined  to  be  her  daughter-in- 
law. 

Vesper  looked  on,  well  pleased.  "  Why  do  you  not 
introduce  me  ? "  he  said,  mischievously,  while  his 

178 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES. 

mother's  attention  was  occupied  with  two  Acadien 
girls. 

Rose  gave  him  a  troubled  glance.  She  took  no 
pleasure  in  his  presence  now,  —  his  mother  had 
spoiled  all  that,  and,  although  naturally  simple  and  un 
affected,  she  was  now  tortured  by  self-consciousness. 

"  I  think  that  you  do  not  care,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice. 

Vesper  did  not  pursue  the  subject.  "  Have  all 
Acadien  women  gentle  manners  ? "  he  asked,  with 
a  glance  at  the  pair  of  shy,  retiring  ones  talking  to 
his  mother. 

A  far-away  look  came  into  Rose's  eyes,  and  she 
replied,  with  more  composure  :  "  The  Abbe  Casgrain 
says  —  he  who  wrote  '  A  Pilgrimage  to  the  Land  of 
Evangeline  '  -  —  that  over  all  Acadiens  hangs  a  quiet 
ness  and  melancholy  that  come  from  the  troubles  of 
long  ago  ;  but  Agapit  does  not  find  it  so." 

"  What  does  Agapit  say  ?  " 

"He  finds,"  and  Rose  drew  her  slight  figure  up 
proudly,  "that  we  are  born  to  good  manners.  It 
was  the  best  blood  of  France  that  settled  Acadie. 
Did  our  forefathers  come  here  poor  ?  No,  they 
brought  much  money.  They  built  fine  houses  of 
stone,  not  wood  ;  Grand  Pre  was  a  very  fine  village. 
They  also  built  chateaux.  Then,  after  scatteration, 
we  became  poor ;  but  can  we  not  keep  our  good 
manners  ? " 


ISO  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Vesper  was  much  diverted  by  the  glance  with 
which  his  mother,  having  bowed  farewell  to  her  new 
acquaintances,  suddenly  favored  Rose.  There  was 
pride  in  it,  —  pride  in  the  beauty  and  distinction  of 
the  woman  beside  her  who  was  scarcely  more  than  a 
girl  ;  yet  there  was  also  in  her  glance  a  jealousy  and 
aversion  that  could  not  yet  be  overcome.  Time  alone 
could  effect  this  ;  and  smothering  a  sigh,  Vesper  lifted 
his  head  towards  Narcisse,  who  had  crawled  from  his 
shoulder  to  a  most  uncomfortable  seat  on  the  lower 
limb  of  a  pine-tree,  where,  however,  he  professed  to 
be  most  comfortable,  and  sat  with  his  head  against 
the  rough  bark  as  delightedly  as  if  it  were  the  softest 
of  cushions. 

"I  am  quite  right,"  said  Narcisse,  in  English, 
which  language  he  was  learning  with  astonishing 
rapidity,  and  Vesper  again  turned  his  attention  to 
the  picturesque,  constantly  changing  groups  of  peo 
ple.  He  liked  best  the  brown  and  wrinkled  old  faces 
belonging  to  farmers  and  their  wives  who  were  enjoy 
ing  a  well-earned  holiday.  The  young  men  in  gray 
suits,  he  heard  Rose  telling  his  mother,  were  sailors 
from  up  the  Bay,  whose  schooners  had  arrived  just  in 
time  for  them  to  throw  themselves  on  their  wheels 
and  come  to  the  picnic.  The  smooth-faced  girls  in 
blue,  with  pink  handkerchiefs  on  their  heads,  were 
from  a  settlement  back  in  the  woods.  The  dark-eyed 
maidens  in  sailor  hats,  who  looked  like  a  troop  of 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES.  l8l 

young  Evangelines,  were  the  six  demoiselles  Aucoin, 
the  daughters  of  a  lawyer  in  Meteghan,  and  the  tall 
lady  in  blue  was  an  Acadienne  from  New  York,  who 
brought  her  family  every  summer  to  her  old  home  on 
the  Bay. 

"And  that  tall  priest  in  the  distance,"  said  Rose, 
"  is  the  father  in  whose  parish  we  are.  Once  he  was 
a  colonel  in  the  army  of  France." 

"There  is  something  military  in  his  figure,"  mur 
mured  Mrs.  Nimmo. 

"  He  was  born  among  the  Acadiens  in  France. 
They  did  not  need  him  to  ministrate,  so  when  he  be 
came  a  priest  he  journeyed  here,"  continued  Rose, 
hurriedly,  for  the  piercing  eyes  of  the  kindly-faced 
ecclesiastic  had  sought  out  Vesper  and  his  mother, 
and  he  was  approaching  them  with  an  uplifted  hat. 

Rose  got  up  and  said,  in  a  fluttering  voice,  "  May 
I  present  you,  Father  La  Croix,  to  Mrs.  Nimmo,  and 
also  her  son  ?  " 

The  priest  bowed  gracefully,  and  begged  to  assure 
madame  and  her  son  that  their  fame  had  already  pre 
ceded  them,  and  that  he  was  deeply  grateful  to  them 
for  honoring  his  picnic  with  their  presence. 

"  I  suppose  there  are  not  many  English  people 
here  to-day,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  smiling  amiably, 
while  Vesper  contented  himself  with  a  silent  bow. 

Father  La  Croix  gazed  about  the  crowd,  now 
greatly  augmented.  "  As  far  as  I  can  see,  madame, 


1 82  HOSE    A    CHARLITTE. 

you  and  your  son  are  the  only  English  that  we  have 
the  pleasure  of  entertaining.  You  are  now  in  the 
heart  of  the  French  district  of  Clare." 

"  And  yet  I  hear  a  good  deal  of  English  spoken." 

Father  La  Croix  smiled.  "  We  all  understand  it, 
and  you  see  here  a  good  many  young  people  em 
ployed  in  the  States,  who  are  home  for  their  holidays." 

"  And  I  suppose  we  are  the  only  Protestants  here," 
continued  Mrs.  Nimmo. 

"The  only  ones,  —  you  are  also  alone  in  the  parish 
of  Sleeping  Water.  If  at  any  time  a  sense  of  isola 
tion  should  prey  upon  madame  and  her  son  - 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence  except  by  another 
smile  of  infinite  amusement,  and  a  slight  withdrawal 
of  his  firm  lips  from  his  set  of  remarkably  white 
teeth. 

Rose  was  disturbed.  Vesper  noticed  that  the 
mention  of  the  word  Protestant  at  any  time  sent  her 
into  a  transport  of  uneasiness.  She  was  terrified  lest 
a  word  might  be  said  to  wound  his  feelings  or  those 
of  his  mother. 

"Monsieur  Ic  cure  is  jesting,  Madame  de  Foret," 
he  said,  reassuringly.  "He  is  quite  willing  that  we 
should  remain  heretics." 

Rose's  face  cleared,  and  Vesper  said  to  the  priest, 
"  Are  there  any  old  people  here  to-day  who  would 
be  inclined  to  talk  about  the  early  settlers  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  they  would    be  flattered, —  up  behind 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES.  183 

the  lunch-tables  is  a  knot  of  old  men  exchanging 
reminiscences  of  early  days.  May  I  have  the  pleas 
ure  of  introducing  you  to  them  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  gratified  if  you  will  do  so,"  and  both 
men  lifted  their  hats  to  Mrs.  Nimmo  and  Rose,  and 
then  disappeared  among  the  crowd. 

Narcisse  immediately  demanded  to  be  taken  from 
the  tree,  and,  upon  reaching  the  ground,  burst  into 
tears.  "Look,  my  mother,  —  I  did  not  see  before." 

Rose  followed  the  direction  of  his  pointing  finger. 
He  pretended  to  have  just  discovered  that  under  the 
feet  of  this  changeful  assemblage  were  millions  of 
crushed  and  suffering  grass-blades. 

Rose  exchanged  a  glance  with  Mrs.  Nimmo.  This 
was  a  stroke  of  childish  diplomacy.  He  wished  to 
follow  Vesper. 

"Show  him  something  to  distract  his  attention," 
whispered  the  elder  woman.  "  I  will  go  talk  to 
Madame  Pitre." 

"  See,  Narcisse,  this  little  revolver,"  said  Rose, 
leading  him  up  to  a  big  wheel  of  fortune,  before 
which  a  dozen  men  sat  holding  numbered  sticks  in 
their  hands.  "  When  the  wheel  stops,  some  men 
lose,  others  gain." 

"  I  see  only  the  grass-blades,"  wailed  Narcisse. 
"  My  mother,  does  it  hurt  them  to  be  trampled  on  ?  " 

"  No,  my  child  ;  see,  they  fly  back  again.  I  have 
even  heard  that  it  made  them  grow." 


184  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Let  us  walk  where  there  is  no  grass,"  said  Nar- 
cisse,  passionately,  and,  drawing  her  along  with  him, 
he  went  obliviously  past  the  fruit  and  candy  booths, 
and  the  spread  tables,  to  a  little  knoll  where  sat  three 
old  men  on  rugs. 

Vesper  lay  stretched  on  the  grass  before  them, 
and,  catching  sight  of  Narcisse,  who  was  approaching 
so  boldly,  and  his  mother,  who  was  holding  back  so 
shyly,  he  craved  permission  from  the  old  men  to  seat 
them  on  one  of  the  rugs. 

The  permission  was  gladly  given,  and  Rose  shook 
hands  with  the  three  old  men,  whom  she  knew  well. 
Two  of  them  were  brothers,  from  Meteghan,  the  other 
was  a  cousin,  from  up  the  Bay,  whom  they  rarely 
saw.  The  brothers  were  slim,  well-made,  dapper  old 
men  ;  the  cousin  was  a  fat,  jolly  farmer,  dressed  in 
homespun. 

"  I  can  tell  you  one  of  olden  times,"  said  this 
latter,  in  a  thick,  syrupy  voice,  "  better  dan  dat  last." 

"  Suppose  we  have  it  then,"  said  Vesper. 

"  Dere  was  Pierre  Belliveau,  —  Pierre  aged  dwenty- 
one  and  a  half  at  de  drama  of  1755.  His  f adder  was 
made  prisoner.  Pierre,  he  run  to  de  fores'  wid  four, 
—  firs'  Cyprian  Gautreau  and  de  tree  brudders, 
Joseph  dit  Coudgeau,  Charlitte  dit  Le  Fort  - 

"  Is  that  where  the  husband  of  Madame  de  Foret 
got  his  name  ? "  interrupted  Vesper,  indicating  his 
landlady  by  a  gesture. 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES.  185 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "it  is  a  name  of  long 
ago,  —  besides  Charlitte  was  Bonaventure,  an'  dese 
five  men  suffered  horrible,  mos'  horrible,  for  winter 
came  on,  an'  dey  was  all  de  time  hungry  w'en  dey 
wasn't  eatin',  anr  dey  had  to  roam  by  night  like  dogs, 
to  pick  up  w'at  dey  could.  But  dey  live  till  de  spring, 
an'  dey  wander  like  de  wile  beasties  roun'  de  fores' 
of  Beausejour,  an'  dey  was  well  watched  by  de  Eng 
lish.  If  dey  had  been  shot,  dis  man  would  not  be 
talkin'  to  you,  for  Bonaventure  was  my  ancessor  on 
my  modder's  side.  On  a  day  w'en  dey  come  to  Tinta- 
marre  —  you  know  de  great  ma'sh  of  Tintamarre  ? " 

"  No  ;   I  never  heard  of  it." 

"Well,  it  big  ma'sh  in  Westmoreland  County. 
One  day  dey  come  dere,  an'  dey  perceive  not  far 
from  dem  a  goelettc,  —  a  schooner.  De  sea  was  low, 
an'  all  de  men  in  de  schooner  atten'  de  return  of  de 
tide,  for  dey  was  high  an'  dry.  Dose  five  Acadiens 
look  at  dat  schooner,  den  dey  w'isper, — den  dey 
wander,  as  perchance,  near  dat  schooner.  De  cap'en 
look  at  dem  like  a  happy  wile  beas',  'cause  he  was 
sent  from  Port  Royal  to  catch  the  runawoods.  He 
call  out,  he  invite  dose  Acadiens,  he  say,  '  Come  on, 
we  make  you  no  harm,'  an'  dey  go,  meek  like  sheep ; 
soon  de  sea  mount,  de  cap'en  shout,  '  Raise  de 
anchor,'  but  Pierre  said,  'We  urns'  go  ashore.'  'Trow 
dose  Romans  in  la  cale>  say  dat  bad  man.  La  cale 
cest —  " 


1 86  HOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  In  the  hold,"  supplied  the  two  other  eager  old 
men,  in  a  breath. 

"  Yes,  in  de  hole,  —  but  tink  you  dey  went  ?  No  ; 
Charlitte  he  was  big,  he  had  de  force  of  five  men,  he 
look  at  Pierre.  Pierre  he  shout,  '  Fesse,  Charlitte,' 
and  Charlitte  he  snatch  a  bar  from  de  deck,  he  bang 
it  on  de  head  of  de  Englishman  an'  massacre  him. 
'  Debarrass  us  of  anoder,'  cried  Pierre.  Charlitte  he 
raise  his  bar  again,  —  an'  still  anoder,  an'  tree  English 
men  lay  on  de  deck.  Only  de  cap' en  remain,  an'  a 
sailor  very  big,  —  mos'  as  big  as  Charlitte.  De  cap'en 
was  consternate,  yet  he  made  a  sign  of  de  han'.  De 
sailor  jump  on  Pierre  an'  try  to  pitch  him  in  de  hole. 
Tink  you  Charlitte  let  him  go  ?  No  ;  he  runs,  he 
chucks  dat  sailor  in  de  sea.  Den  de  cap'en  falls  on 
his  knees.  '  Spare  me  de  life  an'  I  will  spare  you  de 
lives.'  '  Spare  us  de  lives  ! '  said  Pierre,  '  did  you  spare 
de  lives  of  dose  unhappy  ones  of  Port  Royal  whom 
you  sen'  to  exile  ?  No  ;  an'  you  would  carry  us  to 
Halifax  to  de  cruel  English.  Dat  is  how  you  spare. 
Where  are  our  mudders  an'  f adders,  our  brudders  an' 
sisters  ?  You  carry  dem  to  a  way-off  shore  w'ere  dey 
cry  mos'  all  de  time.  We  shall  see  dem  never.  Rec- 
ommen'  your  soul  to  God.'  Den  after  a  little  he  say 
very  low,  '  Charlitte  fcsse,'  again.  An'  Charlitte  he 
fesse,  an'  dey  brush  de  han'  over  de  eyes  an'  lower  dat 
cap'en  in  de  sea. 

"  Den  Pierre,  who  was  fine  sailor,  run  de  schooner 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES.  1 87 

up  to  Petitcodiac.  Later  on,  de  son  of  Bonaventure 
come  to  dis  Bay,  an'  his  daughter  was  my  mudder." 

When  the  old  man  finished  speaking,  a  shudder  ran 
over  the  little  group,  and  Vesper  gazed  thoughtfully 
at  the  lively  scene  beyond  them.  This  was  a  dearly 
bought  picnic.  These  quiet  old  men,  gentle  Mrs. 
Rose,  the  prattling  children,  the  vivacious  young  men 
and  women,  were  all  descendants  of  ancestors  who  had 
with  tears  and  blood  sought  a  resting-place  for  their 
children.  He  longed  to  hear  more  of  their  exploits, 
and  he  was  just  about  to  prefer  a  request  when  little 
Narcisse,  who  had  been  listening  with  parted  lips, 
leaned  forward  and  patted  the  old  man's  boot.  "  Tell 
Narcisse  yet  another  story  with  trees  in  it." 

The  fat  old  man  nodded  his  head.  "  I  know  anod- 
der  of  a  Belliveau,  dis  one  Charles.  He  was  a  car 
penter  an'  he  made  ships  from  trees.  At  de  great 
derangement  de  English  hole  him  prisoner  at  Port 
Royal.  One  of  de  ships  to  take  away  de  Acadiens 
had  broke  her  mas'  in  a  tempes'.  Charles  he  make 
anodder,  and  w'en  he  finish  dat  mas'  he  ask  his  pay. 
One  refuse  him  dat.  Den  de  mas'  will  fall,'  he  say. 
4 1  done  someting  ft>  it.'  De  cap'en  hurry  to  give  him 
de  price,  an'  Charlie  he  say,  '  It  all  right.'  W'en  dey 
embark  de  prisoners  dey  put  Charles  on  dat  schooner. 
Dey  soon  leave  de  war-ship  dat  go  wid  dem,  but  de 
cap'en  of  de  war-ship  he  say  to  de  cap'en  of  de  schooner, 
'  Take  care,  my  fren',  you  got  some  good  sailors  'mong 


1 88  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

dose  Acadiens.'  De  cap'en  of  de  schooner  laugh.  He 
was  like  dose  trees,  Narcisse,  dat  is  rooted  so  strong 
dey  tink  dat  no  ting  can  never  upset  dem.  He  still  let 
dose  Acadiens  come  on  deck,  —  six,  seven  at  a  times, 
cause  de  hole  pretty  foul,  an'  dey  might  die.  One  day, 
w'en  de  order  was  given,  '  Go  down,  you  Acadiens, 
an'  come  up  seven  odder,'  de  firs'  lot  dey  open  de 
hatch,  den  spring  on  de  bridge.  Dey  garrotte  de 
cap'en  and  crew,  an'  Charles  go  to  turn  de  schooner. 
De  cap'en  call,  'Dat  gran'  mas'  is  weak,  —  you  go 
for  to  break  it.'  '  Liar,'  shouted  Charles,  <dis  is  I  dat 
make  it.'  Dose  Acadiens  mount  de  River  St.  John, 
—  I  don'  know  what  dey  did  wid  dose  English.  I 
hope  dey  kill  'em,"  he  added,  mildly. 

"  Pere  Baudouin,"  said  Rose,  bending  forward,  "  this 
is  an  Englishman  from  Boston." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "he  is  good  English, 
dose  were  bad." 

Vesper  smiled,  and  asked  him  whether  he  had  ever 
heard  of  the  Fiery  Erenchman  of  Grand  Pre. 

The  old  man  considered  carefully  and  consulted 
with  his  cousins.  Neither  of  them  had  ever  heard  of 
such  a  person.  There  were  so  many  Acadiens,  they 
said,  in  an  explanatory  way,  so  many  different  bands, 
so  many  scattering  groups  journeying  homeward.  But 
they  would  inquire. 

"  Here  comes  Father  La  Croix,"  said  Rose,  softly  ; 
"will  you  not  ask  him  to  help  you  ?" 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES.  189 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  be  so  much  interested  in 
this  search  of  mine,"  said  Vesper,  in  a  low  voice. 

Rose's  lip  trembled,  and  avoiding  his  glance,  she 
kept  her  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the  ex-colonel  and 
present  priest,  who  was  expressing  a  courteous 
hope  that  Vesper  had  obtained  the  information  he 
wished. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Vesper,  "  though  I  am  greatly  in 
debted  to  these  gentlemen,"  and  he  turned  to  thank 
the  old  men. 

"  I  know  of  your  mission,"  said  Father  La  Croix, 
"  and  if  you  will  favor  me  with  some  details,  perhaps 
I  can  help  you." 

Vesper  walked  to  and  fro  on  the  grass  with  him 
for  some  minutes,  and  then  watched  him  threading 
his  way  in  and  out  among  the  groups  of  his  parish 
ioners  and  their  guests  until  at  last  he  mounted  the 
band-stand,  and  extended  his  hand  over  the  crowd. 

He  did  not  utter  a  word,  yet  there  was  almost 
instantaneous  silence.  The  merry-go-round  stopped, 
the  dancers  paused,  and  a  hush  fell  on  all  present. 

"  My  dear  people,"  he  said,  "  it  rejoices  me  to  see  so 
many  of  you  here  to-day,  and  to  know  that  you  are 
enjoying  yourselves.  Let  us  be  thankful  to  God  for 
the  fine  weather.  I  am  here  to  request  you  to  do  me 
a  favor.  You  all  have  old  people  in  your  homes,  - 
you  hear  them  talking  of  the  great  expulsion.  I 
wish  you  to  ask  these  old  ones  whether  they  remem- 


I9O  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

her  a  certain  Etex  LeNoir,  called  the  Fiery  French 
man  of  Grand  Pre.  He,  too,  was  carried  away,  but  never 
reached  his  destination,  having  died  on  the  ship  Con 
fidence,  but  his  wife  and  child  probably  arrived  in  Phila 
delphia.  Find  out,  if  you  can,  the  fate  of  this  widow 
and  her  child,  —  whether  they  died  in  a  foreign  land, 
or  whether  she  succeeded  in  coming  back  to  Acadie, 
—  and  bring  the  information  to  me." 

He  descended  the  steps,  and  Vesper  hastened  to 
thank  him  warmly  for  his  interest. 

"  It  may  result  in  nothing,"  said  the  priest,  "yet 
there  is  an  immense  amount  of  information  stored  up 
among  the  Acadiens  on  this  Bay ;  I  do  not  at  all  de 
spair  of  finding  this  family,"  and  he  took  a  kindly 
leave  of  Vesper,  after  directing  him  whereto  find  his 
mother. 

"But  this  is  terrible,"  said  Rose,  trying  to  restrain 
the  ardent  Narcisse,  who  was  dragging  her  towards 
his  beloved  Englishman.  "  My  child,  thy  mother 
will  be  forced  to  whip  thee." 

Vesper  at  that  moment  turned  around,  and  his  keen 
glance  sought  her  out.  "  Why  do  you  struggle  with 
him  ?"  he  asked,  coming  to  meet  them. 

"  But  I  cannot  have  him  tease  you." 

"  He  does  not  tease  me,"  and  in  quiet  sympathy 
Vesper  endeavored  to  restore  peace  to  her  troubled 
mind.  She,  most  beautiful  flower  of  all  this  show, 
and  most  deserving  of  joy  and  comfort,  had  been  un- 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES.  IQI 

happy  and  ill  at  ease  ever  since  they  entered  the 
gates.  The  lingering,  furtive  glances  of  several  young 
Acadiens  were  unheeded  by  her.  Her  only  thought 
was  to  reach  her  home  and  be  away  from  this  bustle 
and  excitement,  and  it  was  his  mother  who  had 
wrought  this  change  in  her ;  and  in  sharp  regret, 
Vesper  surveyed  the  little  lady,  who,  apparently  in 
the  most  amiable  of  moods,  was  sitting  chatting  to 
an  Acadien  matron  to  whom  Father  La  Croix  had 
introduced  her. 

A  slight  scuffle  in  a  clump  of  green  bushes  beside 
them  distracted  his  attention  from  her.  A  pleading 
exclamation  from  a  manly  voice  was  followed  by  an 
eloquent  silence,  a  brisk  sound  like  a  slap,  or  a  box 
on  the  ears,  and  a  laugh  from  a  girl,  with  a  threaten 
ing,  "  Tu  me paieras  $a"  (Thou  shalt  pay  me  for  that). 

Vesper  laughed  too.  There  was  something  so  ir 
resistibly  comical  in  the  man's  second  exclamation  of 
dismayed  surprise. 

"  It  is  Perside,"  said  Rose,  wearily.  "  How  can 
she  be  so  gay,  in  so  public  a  place  ?  " 

"  Serves  the  blacksmith  right,  for  trying  to  kiss 
her,"  said  Vesper. 

"  Perside,"  said  Rose,  rebukingly,  and  thrusting  her 
head  through  the  verdant  screen,  "  come  and  be  pre 
sented  to  Mrs.  Nimmo." 

Perside  came  forward.  She  was  a  laughing,  piquant 
beauty,  smaller  and  more  self-conscious  than  Rose. 


192  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

With  admirable  composure  she  dismissed  her  black- 
smith-Jianc/,  and  followed  her  sister. 

Mrs.  Nimmo  had  been  receiving  a  flattering  amount 
of  attention,  and  was  holding  quite  a  small  court  of 
Acadien  women  about  her.  Among  them  was  Rose's 
stepmother.  Vesper  had  not  met  her  before,  and  he 
gazed  at  her  calm,  statuesque,  almost  severe  profile, 
under  the  dark  handkerchief.  Her  hands,  worn  by 
honest  toil,  and  folded  in  her  lap,  were  unmistakable 
signs  of  a  long  and  hard  struggle  with  poverty. 
Yet  her  smile  was  gentleness  and  sweetness  itself, 
when  she  returned  Vesper's  salutation.  A  poor  farm, 
many  cares,  many  children,  —  he  knew  her  history, 
for  Rose  had  told  him  of  her  mother's  death  during 
Perside's  infancy,  and  the  great  kindness  of  the 
young  woman  who  had  married  their  father  and  had 
brought  up  not  only  his  children,  but  also  the  mother 
less  Agapit. 

With  a  filial  courtesy  that  won  the  admiration  of 
the  Acadiens,  among  whom  respect  for  parents  is 
earnestly  inculcated,  Vesper  asked  his  mother  if  she 
wished  him  to  take  her  home. 

"  If  you  are  quite  ready  to  leave,"  she  replied, 
getting  up  and  drawing  her  wrap  about  her. 

The  Acadien  women  uttered  their  regrets  that 
madame  should  leave  so  soon.  But  would  she  not 
come  to  visit  them  in  their  own  homes  ? 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  graciously,  "  but  we 


WITH   THE    OLD    ONES.  193 

leave  soon,  — possibly  in  two  days,"  and  her  inquiring 
eyes  rested  on  her  son,  who  gravely  inclined  his  head 
in  assent. 

There  was  a  chorus  of  farewells  and  requests  that 
madame  would,  at  some  future  time,  visit  the  Bay, 
and  Mrs.  Nimmo,  bowing  her  acknowledgments,  and 
singling  out  Perside  for  a  specially  approving  glance, 
took  her  son's  arm  and  was  about  to  move  away  when 
he  said,  "  If  you  do  not  object,  we  will  take  the  child 
with  us.  He  is  tired,  and  is  wearing  out  his  mother." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  could  afford  to  be  magnanimous,  as 
they  were  so  soon  to  go  away,  and  might  possibly 
shake  off  all  connection  with  this  place.  Therefore 
she  favored  the  pale  and  suffering  Rose  with  a  com 
passionate  glance,  and  extended  an  inviting  hand  to 
the  impetuous  boy,  who,  however,  disdained  it  and  ran 
to  Vesper. 

"  But  why  are  they  going  ?"  cried  Agapit,  hurrying 
up  to  Rose,  as  she  stood  gazing  after  the  retreating 
Nimmos.  "  Did  you  tell  them  of  the  fireworks,  and 
the  concert,  and  the  French  play ;  also  that  there 
would  be  a  moon  to  return  by  ? " 

"  Madame  was  weary." 

"  Come  thou  then  with  me.  I  enjoy  myself  so 
much.  My  shirt  is  wet  on  my  back  from  the  danc 
ing.  It  is  hot  like  a  hay  field  —  what,  thou  wilt  not  ? 
Rose,  why  art  thou  so  dull  to-day  ? ' ' 

She  tried  to  compose  herself,  to  banish  the  heart- 


IQ4  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

rending  look  of  sorrow  from  her  face,  but  she  was  not 
skilled  in  the  art  of  concealing  her  emotions,  and  the 
effort  was  a  vain  one. 

"  Rose  !  "  said  her  cousin,  in  sudden  dismay.  "  Rose 
—  Rose  ! " 

"What  is  the  matter  with  thee?"  she  asked, 
alarmed  in  her  turn  by  his  strange  agitation. 

"  Hush,  —  walk  aside  with  me.  Now  tell  me,  what 
is  this  ? " 

"Narcisse  has  been  a  trouble,"  began  Rose,  hur 
riedly  ;  then  she  calmed  herself.  "  I  will  not  deceive 
thee,  —  it  is  not  Narcisse,  though  he  has  worried  me. 
Agapit,  I  wish  to  go  home." 

"  I  will  send  thee  ;  but  be  quiet,  speak  not  above 
thy  breath. '  Tell  me,  has  this  Englishman  — 

"The  Englishman  has  done  nothing,"  said  Rose, 
brokenly,  "  except  that  in  two  days  he  goes  back  to 
the  world." 

"  And  dost  thou  care  ?  Stop,  let  me  see  thy  face. 
Rose,  thou  art  like  a  sister  to  me.  My  poor  one,  my 
dear  cousin,  do  not  cry.  Come,  where  is  thy  dignity, 
thy  pride  ?  Remember  that  Acadien  women  do  not 
give  their  hearts  ;  they  must  be  begged." 

"  I  remember,"  she  said,  resolutely.  "  I  will  be 
strong.  Fear  not,  Agapit,  and  let  us  return.  The 
women  will  be  staring." 

She  brushed  her  hand  over  her  face,  then  by  a  de 
termined  effort  of  will  summoned  back  her  lost  com- 


WITH   THE    OLD   ONES.  195 

posure,  and  with  a  firm,  light  step  rejoined  the  group 
that  they  had  just  left. 

" Mon  Dieu!"  muttered  Agapit,  "my  pleasure  is 
gone,  and  I  was  lately  so  happy.  I  thought  of  this 
nightmare,  and  yet  I  did  not  imagine  it  would  come. 
I  might  have  known,  —  he  is  so  calm,  so  cool,  so 
handsome.  That  kind  charms  women  and  men  too, 
for  I  also  love  him,  yet  I  must  give  him  up.  Rose, 
my  sister,  thou  must  not  go  home  early.  I  must 
keep  thee  here  and  suffer  with  thee,  for,  until  the 
Englishman  leaves,  thou  must  be  kept  from  him  as  a 
little  bunch  of  tow  from  a  slow  fire.  Does  he  already 
love  thee  ?  May  the  holy  saints  forbid  —  yes  —  no, 
I  cannot  tell.  He  is  inscrutable.  If  he  does,  I 
think  it  not.  If  he  does  not,  I  think  it  so." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    CAVE    OF    THE    BEARS. 

"  I  had  found  out  a  sweet  green  spot, 

Where  a  lily  was  blooming  fair; 
The  din  of  the  city  disturbed  it  not; 
But  the  spirit  that  shades  the  quiet  cot 

With  its  wings  of  love  was  there. 

"  I  found  that  lily's  bloom 

When  the  day  was  dark  and  chill; 
It  smiled  like  a  star  in  a  misty  gloom, 
And  it  sent  abroad  a  sweet  perfume, 
Which  is  floating  around  me  still." 

PERCIVAL. 

MORE  than  twenty  miles  beyond  Sleeping  Water  is 
a  curious  church  built  of  cobblestones. 

Many  years  ago,  the  devoted  priest  of  this  parish 
resolved  that  his  flock  must  have  a  new  church,  and 
yet  how  were  they  to  obtain  one  without  money  ?  He 
pondered  over  the  problem  for  some  time,  and  at  last 
he  arrived  at  a  satisfactory  solution.  Would  his  pa 
rishioners  give  time  and  labor,  if  he  supplied  the 
material  for  construction  ? 

They  would,  —  and  he  pointed  to  the  stones  on 
the  beach.  The  Bay  already  supplied  them  with 

196 


THE    CAVE    OF   THE   BEARS. 

meat  and  drink,  they  were  now  to  obtain  a  place  of 
worship  from  it.  They  worked  with  a  will,  and  in  a 
short  time  their  church  went  up  like  the  temple  of 
old,  without  the  aid  of  alien  labor. 

Vesper,  on  the  day  after  the  picnic,  had  announced 
his  intention  of  visiting  this  church,  and  Agapit,  in 
unconcealed  disapproval  and  slight  vexation,  stood 
watching  him  clean  his  wheel,  preparatory  to  setting 
out  on  the.  road  down  the  Bay. 

He  would  be  sure  to  overtake  Rose,  who  had 
shortly  before  left  the  inn  with  Narcisse.  She  had 
had  a  terrible  scene  with  the  child  relative  to  the 
approaching  departure  of  the  American,  and  Agapit 
himself  had  advised  her  to  take  him  to  her  step 
mother.  He  wished  now  that  he  had  not  done  so, 
he  wished  that  he  could  prevent  Vesper  from  going 
after  her,  —  he  almost  wished  that  this  quiet,  imper 
turbable  young  man  had  never  come  to  the  Bay. 

"  And  yet,  why  should  I  do  that  ?  "  he  reflected, 
penitently.  "  Does  not  good  come  when  one  works 
from  honest  motives,  though  bad  only  is  at  first 
apparent  ?  Though  we  suffer  now,  we  may  yet  be 
happy,"  and,  casting  a  long,  reluctant  look  at  the 
taciturn  young  American,  he  rose  from  his  comfort 
able  seat  and  went  up-stairs.  He  was  tired,  out  of 
sorts,  and  irresistibly  sleepy,  having  been  up  all  night 
examining  the  old  documents  left  by  his  uncle,  the 
priest,  in  the  hope  of  finding  something  relating  to 


198  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

the  Fiery  Frenchman,  for  he  was  now  as  anxious  to 
conclude  Vesper's  mission  to  the  Bay  as  he  had  for 
merly  been  to  prolong  it. 

With  a  quiet  step  he  crept  past  the  darkened  room 
where  Mrs.  Nimmo,  after  worrying  her  son  by  her 
insistence  on  doing  her  own  packing,  had  been 
obliged  to  retire,  in  a  high  state  of  irritation,  and 
with  a  raging  headache. 

He  hoped  that  the  poor  lady  would  be  able  to 
travel  by  the  morrow ;  her  son  would  be,  there  was 
no  doubt  of  that.  How  well  and  strong  he  seemed 
now,  how  immeasurably  he  had  gained  in  physical 
well-being  since  coming  to  the  Bay. 

"  For  that  we  should  be  thankful,"  said  Agapit,  in 
sincere  admiration  and  regard,  as  he  stood  by  his 
window  and  watched  Vesper  spinning  down  the  road. 

"  He  goes  so  cool,  so  careless,  like  those  soldiers 
who  went  to  battle  with  a  rose  between  their  lips,  and 
I  do  not  dare  to  warn,  to  question,  lest  I  bring  on 
what  I  would  keep  back.  But  do  thou,  my  cousin 
Rose,  not  linger  on  the  way.  It  would  be  better  for 
thee  to  bite  a  piece  from  thy  little  tongue  than  to 
have  words  with  this  handsome  stranger  whom  I  fear 
thou  lovest.  Now  to  work  again,  and  then,  if  there 
is  time,  half  an  hour's  sleep  before  supper,  for  my 
eyelids  flag  strangely." 

Agapit  sat  down  before  the  table  bestrewn  with 
papers,  while  Vesper  went  swiftly  over  the  road  until 


THE   CAVE    OF  THE  BEARS.  199 

he  reached  the  picnic  ground  of  the  day  before,  now 
restored  to  its  former  quietness  as  a  grazing  place  for 
cows.  Of  all  the  cheerful  show  there  was  left  only 
the  big  merry-go-round,  that  was  being  packed  in  an 
enormous  wagon  drawn  by  four  pairs  of  oxen. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ? "  asked  Ves 
per,  springing  off  his  wheel,  and  addressing  the 
Acadiens  at  work. 

"We  take  it  to  a  parish  farther  down  the  Bay, 
where  there  is  to  be  yet  another  picnic,"  said  one 
of  them. 

"  How  much  did  they  make  yesterday  ? "  pursued 
Vesper. 

"  Six  hundred  dollars,  and  only  four  hundred  the 
day  before,  and  three  the  first,  for  you  remember 
those  days  were  partly  rainy." 

"  And  some  people  say  that  you  Acadiens  are 
poor." 

The  man  grinned.  "  There  were  many  people 
here,  many  things.  This  wooden  darling,"  and 
he  pointed  to  the  dismembered  merry-go-round, 
"  earned  one  dollar  and  twenty  cents  every  five 
minutes.  We  need  much  for  our  churches,"  and  he 
jerked  his  thumb  towards  the  red  cathedral.  "The 
plaster  falls,  it  must  be  restored.  Do  you  go  far, 
sir?" 

Vesper  mentioned  his  destination. 

All  the  Acadiens  on  the  Bay  knew  him  and  took  a 


2OO  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

friendly  interest  in  his  movements,  and  the  man 
advised  him  to  take  in  the  Cave  of  the  Bears,  that 
was  also  a  show-place  for  strangers.  "  It  is  three 
miles  farther,  where  there  is  a  bite  in  the  shore,  and 
the  bluff  is  high.  You  will  know  it  by  two  yellow 
houses,  like  twins.  Descend  there,  and  you  will  see 
a  troop  of  ugly  bears  quite  still  about  a  cave.  The 
Indians  of  this  coast  say  that  their  great  man, 
Glooscap,  in  days  before  the  French  came,  once  sat 
in  the  cave  to  rest.  Some  hungry  bears  came  to  eat 
him,  but  he  stretched  out  a  pine-tree  that  he  carried 
and  they  were  turned  to  stone." 

Vesper  thanked  him,  and  went  on.  When  he 
reached  the  sudden  and  picturesque  cove  in  the  Bay, 
his  attention  was  caught,  not  so  much  by  its  beauty, 
as  by  the  presence  of  the  inn  pony,  who  neighed  a 
joyful  welcome,  and  impatiently  jerked  back  and 
forth  the  road-cart  to  which  he  was  attached. 

Vesper  glanced  sharply  a,t  the  yellow  houses. 
Perhaps  Rose  was  making  a  call  in  one  of  them. 
Then  he  stroked  the  pony,  who  playfully  nipped  his 
coat  sleeve,  and,  after  propping  his  wheel  against  a 
stump,  ran  nimbly  down  a  grassy  road,  where  a  goat 
was  soberly  feeding  among  lobster-traps  and  drawn- 
up  boats. 

He  crossed  the  strip  of  sand  in  the  semicircular 
inlet,  and  there  before  him  were  the  bears,  —  ugly 
brown  rocks  with  coats  of  slippery  seaweed,  their 


THE   CAVE   OF  THE   BEARS.  2OI 

grinning  heads  turned  towards  the  mouth  of  a  black 
cavern  in  the  lower  part  of  the  bluff,  their  staring 
eye-sockets  fixed  on  the  dainty  woman's  figure  inside, 
as  if  they  would  fain  devour  her. 

Rose  sat  with  her  face  to  the  sea,  her  head  against 
the  damp  rock  wall,  —  her  whole  attitude  one  of 
abandonment  and  mournful  despair. 

Vesper  began  to  hurry  towards  her,  but,  catching 
sight  of  Narcisse,  he  stopped. 

The  child,  with  a  face  convulsed  and  tear-stained, 
was  angrily  seizing  stones  from  the  beach  to  fling  them 
against  the  most  lifelike  bear  of  all,  —  a  grotesque, 
hideous  creature,  that  appeared  to  be  shouldering  his 
way  from  the  water  in  order  to  plunge  into  the  cave. 

"Dost  thou  mock  me?"  exclaimed  Narcisse,  furi 
ously.  "  I  will  strike  thee  yet  again,  thou  hateful 
thing.  Thou  shalt  not  come  on  shore  to  eat  my 
mother  and  the  Englishman,"  and  he  dashed  a  yet 
larger  stone  against  it. 

"Narcisse,"  said  Vesper. 

The  child  turned  quickly.  Then  his  trouble  was 
forgotten,  and  stumbling  and  slipping  over  the  sea 
weed,  but  at  last  attaining  his  goal,  he  flung  his 
small  unhappy  self  against  Vesper's  breast.  "  I  love 
you,  I  love  you,  — gros  comme  la  grange  a  Pinot " 
(as  much  as  Pinot's  barn),  —  "  yet  my  mother  carried 
me  away.  Take  me  with  you,  Mr.  Englishman. 
Narcisse  is  very  sick  without  you." 


202  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

In  maternal  alarm  Rose  sprang  up  at  her  child's 
first  shriek.  Then  she  sank  back,  pale  and  confused, 
for  Vesper's  eye  was  upon  her,  although  apparently 
he  was  engaged  only  in  fondling  the  little  curly  head, 
and  in  allowing  the  child  to  stroke  his  face  and  dive 
into  his  pockets,  to  pull  out  his  watch,  and  indulge 
in  the  fond  and  foolish  familiarities  permitted  to  a 
child  by  a  loving  father. 

"  Go  to  her,  Narcisse,"  said  Vesper,  presently,  and 
the  small  boy  ran  into  the  cave.  "  My  mother,  my 
mother !  "  he  cried,  in  an  ecstacy  ;  and  he  wagged  his 
curly  head  as  if  he  would  shake  it  from  his  body. 
"The  Englishman  returns  to  you  and  to  me, — he 
will  stay  away  only  a  short  time.  Come,  get  up,  get 
up.  Let  us  go  back  to  the  inn.  I  am  to  go  no  more 
to  my  grandmother.  Is  it  not  so  ?  "  and  he  anxiously 
gazed  at  Vesper,  who  was  slowly  approaching. 

Vesper  did  not  speak,  neither  did  Rose.  What 
was  the  matter  with  these  grown  people  that  they 
stared  so  stupidly  at  each  other  ? 

"  Have  you  a  headache,  Mr.  Englishman  ? "  he 
asked,  with  abrupt  childish  anxiety,  as  he  noticed 
a  sudden  and  unusual  wave  of  color  sweeping  over 
his  friend's  face.  "  And  you,  my  mother,  —  why  do 
you  hang  your  head  ?  Give  only  the  Englishman 
your  hand  and  he  will  lift  you  from  the  rock.  He  is 
strong,  very  strong,  —  he  carries  me  over  the  rough 
places." 


THE    CAVE    OF    THE   BEARS.      ,  2O3 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  hand,  Rose  ?  " 

She  started  back,  with  a  heart-broken  gesture. 

"  But  you  are  imbecile,  my  darling  mother  !  "  cried 
Narcisse,  throwing  himself  on  her  in  terror.  "The 
Englishman  will  become  angry,  —  he  will  leave  us. 
Give  him  your  hand,  and  let  us  go  from  this  place," 
and,  resolutely  seizing  her  fluttering  fingers  in  his 
own  soft  ones,  he  directed  them  to  Vesper's  strong, 
true  clasp. 

"  Go  stone  the  bears  again,  Narcisse,"  said  the 
young  man,  with  a  strange  quiver  in  his  voice.  "  I 
will  talk  to  your  mother  about  going  back  to  the  inn. 
See,  she  is  not  well ;  "  for  Rose  had  bowed  her  weary 
head  on  her  arm. 

"Yes,  talk  to  her,"  said  the  child,  "that  is  good, 
and,  above  all,  do  not  let  her  hand  go.  She  runs 
from  me  sometimes,  the  little  naughty  mother,"  and, 
with  affected  roguishness  that,  however,  concealed  a 
certain  anxiety,  he  put  his  head  on  one  side,  and 
stared  affectionately  at  her  as  he  left  the  cave. 

He  had  gone  some  distance,  and  Vesper  had 
already  whispered  a  few  words  in  Rose's  ear,  when 
he  returned  and  stared  again  at  them.  "  Will  you 
tell  me  only  one  little  story,  Mr.  Englishman  ? " 

"  About  what,  you  small  bother  ?  " 

"  About  bears,  big  brown  bears,  not  gentle  trees." 

"There  was  once  a  sick  bear,"  said  the  young  man, 
"and  he  went  all  about  the  world,  but  could  not 


204  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

get  well  until  he  found  a  quiet  spot,  where  a  gentle 
lady  cured  him." 

"  And  then  —  " 

"The  lady  had  a  cub,"  said  Vesper,  suddenly 
catching  him  in  his  arms  and  taking  him  out  to 
the  strip  of  sand,  "a  fascinating  cub  that  the  bear 
-I  mean  the  man  —  adored." 

Narcisse  laughed  gleefully,  snatched  Vesper's  cap 
and  set  off  with  it,  fell  into  a  pool  of  water  and  was 
rescued,  and  set  to  the  task  of  taking  off  his  shoes 
and  stockings  and  drying  them  in  the  sun,  while 
Vesper  went  back  to  Rose,  who  still  sat  like  a  person 
in  acute  distress  of  body  and  mind. 

"  I  was  sudden,  —  I  startled  you,"  he  murmured. 

She  made  a  dissenting  gesture,  but  did  not 
speak. 

"Will  you  look  at  me,  Rose?"  he  said,  softly; 
"just  once." 

"  But  I  am  afraid,"  fluttered  from  her  pale  lips. 
"  When  I  gaze  into  your  eyes  it  is  hard  —  " 

He  stood  over  her  in  such  quiet,  breathless  sym 
pathy  that  presently  she  looked  up,  thinking  he  was 
gone. 

His  glance  caught  and  held  hers.  She  got  up, 
allowed  him  to  take  her  hands  and  press  them  to  his 
lips,  and  to  place  on  her  head  the  hat  that  had  fallen 
to  the  ground. 

"  I  will    say  nothing   more    now,"  he  murmured, 


THE    CAVE    OF   THE   BEARS. 

"you  are  shocked  and  upset.  We  had  better  go 
home." 

"  Come  and  be  presented  to  Mrs.  Nimmo,"  sud 
denly  said  a  saucy,  laughing  voice. 

Rose  started  nervously.  Her  sister  Perside  had 
caught  sight  of  them,  —  teasing,  yet  considerate  Per 
side,  since  she  had  bestowed  only  one  glance  on  the 
lovers,  and  had  then  gone  sauntering  past  the  mouth 
of  the  cave,  out  to  the  wide  array  of  black  rocks 
beyond  them.  She  carried  a  hooked  stick  over  her 
shoulder,  and  a  tin  pail  in  her  hand,  and  sometimes 
she  looked  back  at  a  second  girl,  similarly  equipped, 
who  was  running  down  the  grassy  road  after  her. 

Nothing  could  have  made  Rose  more  quickly  re 
cover  herself.  "  It  is  not  the  time  of  perigee,  —  you 
will  find  nothing,"  she  called  after  Perside  ;  then  she 
added  to  Vesper,  in  a  low,  shy  voice,  "  She  seeks  lob 
sters.  She  danced  so  much  at  the  picnic  that  she 
was  too  tired  to  go  home,  and  had  to  stay  here  with 
cousins." 

"Times  and  seasons  do  not  matter  for  some 
things,"  returned  Perside,  gaily,  over  her  shoulder ; 
"one  has  the  fun." 

Narcisse  stopped  digging  his  bare  toes  in  the  sand 
and  shrieked,  delightedly,  "Aunt  Perside,  aunt  Per 
side,  do  you  know  the  Englishman  returns  to  my 
mother  and  me  ?  He  will  never  leave  us,  and  I  am 
not  to  go  to  my  grandmother."  Then,  fearful  that 


2O6  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

his  assertions  had  been  too  strong,  he  averted  his 
gaze  from  the  two  approaching  people,  and  fixed  it 
on  the  blazing  sun. 

"  Will  you  promise  not  to  make  a  scene  when  I 
leave  to-morrow  ?  "  said  Vesper. 

Narcisse  blinked  at  him,  his  eyes  full  of  spots  and 
wheels  and  revolving  lights.  He  was  silly  with  joy, 
and  gurgled  deep  down  in  his  little  throat.  "Let  me 
kiss  your  hand,  as  you  kissed  my  mother's.  It  is  a 
pretty  sight." 

"  Will  you  be  a  good  boy  when  I  leave  to-morrow," 
said  Vesper  again. 

"  But  why  should  I  cry  if  you  return  ?  "  cried  the 
child,  excitedly  flinging  a  handful  of  sand  at  his  boots. 
"  Narcisse  will  never  again  be  bad,"  and  rolling  over 
and  over,  and  kicking  his  pink  heels  in  glee,  he  forced 
Vesper  and  Rose  to  retire  to  a  respectful  distance. 

They  stood  watching  him  for  some  time,  and,  as 
they  watched,  Rose's  tortured  face  grew  calm,  and  a 
spark  of  the  divine  passion  animating  her  lover's  face 
came  into  her  deep  blue  eyes.  She  had  no  right  to 
break  the  tender,  sensitive  little  heart  given  so 
strangely  to  this  stranger.  She  would  forget  Agapit 
and  his  warnings  ;  she  would  forget  the  proud  women 
of  her  race,  who  would  not  wed  a  stranger,  and  one 
of  another  creed  ;  she  would  also  forget  the  nervous, 
jealous  mother  who  would  keep  her  son  from  all 
women. 


THE    CAVE    OF   THE   BEARS.  2O/ 

"You  have  asked  me  for  myself,"  she  said,  impul 
sively  stretching  out  her  hands  to  him,  "for  myself 
and  my  child.  We  are  yours." 

Vesper  bent  down,  and  pressed  her  cool  fingers 
against  his  burning  cheeks.  She  smiled  at  him,  even 
laughed  gleefully,  and  passed  her  hands  over  his  head 
in  a  playful  caress ;  then,  with  her  former  expression 
of  exaltation  and  virginal  modesty  and  shyness,  she 
ran  up  the  grassy  road,  and  paused  at  the  top  to 
look  back  at  him,  as  he  toiled  up  with  Narcisse. 

She  was  vivacious  and  merry  now,  —  he  had  never 
seen  her  just  so  before.  In  an  instant,  —  a  breath, 
—  with  her  surrender  to  him,  she  had  seemed  to  drop 
her  load  of  care,  that  usually  made  her  youthful  face 
so  grave  and  sweet  beyond  her  years.  He  would 
like  to  see  her  cheerful  and  laughing  —  thoughtless 
even  ;  and  murmuring  endearing  epithets  under  his 
breath,  he  assisted  her  into  the  cart,  placed  the  reins 
in  her  hands,  tucked  Narcisse  in  'by  her  side,  and, 
surreptitiously  lifting  a  fold  of  her  dress  to  his  face, 
murmured,  "  Au  revoir,  my  sweet  saint." 

Then,  stroking  his  mustache  to  conceal  from  the 
yellow  houses  his  proud  smile  of  ownership,  he 
watched  the  upright  pose  of  the  light  head,  and  the 
contorted  appearance  of  the  dark  one  that  was  twisted 
over  a  little  shoulder  as  long  as  the  cart  was  in  sight. 

He  forgot  all  about  the  church,  and,  going  back  to 
the  beach,  he  lay  for  a  long  time  sunning  himself  on 


2O8  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

the  sand,  and  plunged  in  a  delicious  reverie.  Then, 
mounting  his  wheel,  he  returned  to  the  inn. 

Agapit  was  running  excitedly  to  and  fro  on  the 
veranda.  "  Come,  make  haste,"  he  cried,  as  he 
caught  sight  of  him  in  the  distance.  "  Extremely 
strange  things  have  happened  —  Let  me  assist  you 
with  that  wheel,  —  a  malediction  on  it,  these  bicycles 
go  always  where  one  does  not  expect.  There  is  news 
of  the  Fiery  Frenchman.  I  found  something,  also 
Father  La  Croix." 

"This  is  interesting,"  said  Vesper,  good-naturedly, 
as  he  folded  his  arms,  and  lounged  against  one  of  the 
veranda  posts. 

"  I  was  delving  among  my  uncle's  papers.  I  had 
precipitately  come  on  the  name  of  LeNoir,  —  Etex, 
the  son  of  Raphael,  who  was  a  wealthy  bourgeois  of 
Calais,  and  emigrated  to  Grand  Pre.  He  was  dead 
when  the  expulsion  came,  and  of  his  two  sons  one, 
Gabriel  LeNoir,  escaped  up  the  St.  John  River,  and 
that  Gabriel  was  my  ancestor,  and  that  of  Rose ; 
therefore,  most  astonishingly  to  me,  we  are  related 
to  this  family  whom  you  have  sought,"  and  Agapit 
wound  up  with  a  flourish  of  his  hands  and  his  heels. 

"  I  am  glad  of  this,"  said  Vesper,  in  a  deeply  grati 
fied  voice. 

"  But  more  remains.  I  was  shouting  over  my 
discovery,  when  Father  La  Croix  came.  I  ran,  I 
descended,  —  the  good  man  presented  his  compli- 


THE    CAVE    OF   THE   BEARS.  2OQ 

ments  to  madame  and  you.  Several  of  his  people 
went  to  him  this  morning.  They  had  questioned 
the  old  ones.  He  wrote  what  they  said,  and  here 
it  is.  See  —  the  son  of  the  murdered  Etex  was 
Samson.  His  mother  landed  in  Philadelphia.  In 
griping  poverty  the  boy  grew  up.  He  went  to 
Boston.  He  joined  the  Acadiens  who  marched  the 
five  hundred  miles  through  the  woods  to  Acadie. 
He  arrived  at  the  Baie  Chaleur,  where  he  married 
a  Comeau.  He  had  many  children,  but  his  eldest, 
Jean,  is  he  in  whom  you  will  interest  yourself,  as  in 
the  direct  line." 

"  And  what  of  Jean  ?  "  asked  Vesper,  when  Agapit 
stopped  to  catch  his  breath. 

Agapit  pointed  to  the  Bay.  "  He  lies  over  Digby 
Neck,  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  but  his  only  child  is  on 
this  Bay." 

"  A  boy  or  a  girl  ?  " 

"A  devil,"  cried  Agapit,  in  a  burst  of  grief,  "a 
little  devil." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FOR  THE  HONOR  OF  THEIR  RACE. 

"  Love  is  the  perfect  sum 
Of  all  delight ! 
I  have  no  other  choice 
Either  for  pen  or  voice 
To  sing  or  write." 

"  WHY  is  the  descendant  of  the  Fiery  Frenchman 
a  devil  ?"  asked  Vesper. 

"  Because  she  has  no  heart.  They  have  taken 
from  her  her  race,  her  religion.  Her  mother,  who 
had  some  Indian  blood,  was  also  wild.  She  would 
not  sweep  her  kitchen  floor.  She  went  to  sea  with 
her  husband,  and  when  she  was  drowned  with  him, 
her  sister,  who  is  also  gay,  took  the  child." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  gay  ? " 

"  I  mean  like  hawks.  They  go  here  and  there, 
—  they  love  the  woods.  They  do  not  keep  neat 
houses,  and  yet  they  are  full  of  strange  ambitions. 
They  change  their  names.  They  are  not  so  much 
like  the  English  as  we  are,  yet  they  pretend  to  have 
no  French  blood.  Sometimes  I  visit  them,  for  the 


FOR  THE  HONOR  OF  THEIR  RACE.     211 

uncle  of  the  child  —  Claude  a  Sucre  —  is  worthy, 
but  his  wife  I  detestate.  She  has  no  bones  of  pur 
pose  ;  she  is  like  a  flabby  sunfish." 

"  Where  do  they  live  ?  " 

"  Up  the  Bay,  — near  Bleury." 

"  And  do  you  think  there  is  nothing  I  can  do  for 
this  little  renegade  ?  " 

"Nothing?"  cried  Agapit.  "You  can  do  every 
thing.  It  is  the  opportunity  of  your  life.  You  so 
wise,  so  generous,  so  understanding  the  Acadiens. 
You  have  in  your  power  to  make  born  again  the 
whole  family  through  the  child.  They  are  supersti 
tious.  They  will  respect  the  claim  of  the  dead. 
Come  to  the  garden  to  talk,  for  there  are  strangers 
approaching." 

Vesper  shivered.  He  was  not  altogether  happy 
over  the  discovery  of  the  lost  link  connecting  him 
with  the  far-back  tragedy  in  which  his  great-grand 
father  had  been  involved.  However,  he  suppressed 
all  signs  of  emotion,  and,  following  Agapit  to  the 
lawn,  he  walked  to  and  fro,  listening  attentively  to 
the  explanations  and  information  showered  upon  him. 
When  Rose  came  to  the  door  to  ring  the  supper-bell, 
both  young  men  paused.  She  thought  they  had  been 
speaking  of  her,  and  blushed  divinely. 

Agapit,  with  an  alarmed  expression,  turned  to  his 
companion,  who  smiled  quietly,  and  was  just  about 
to  address  him,  when  a  lad  came  running  up  to  them. 


212  ROSE   A    CHARLTTTE. 

"  Agapit,  come  quickly,  —  old  miser  Lefroy  is  dy 
ing,  and  would  make  his  will.  He  calls  for  thee." 

"Return,  —  say  that  I  will  come,"  exclaimed  Aga 
pit,  waving  his  hand ;  then  he  looked  at  Vesper. 
"  One  word  only,  why  does  Rose  look  so  strangely  ?  " 

"  Rose  has  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

Agapit  groaned,  flung  himself  away  a  few  steps, 
then  came  back.  "  Say  no  more  to  her  till  you  see 
me.  How  could  you  —  and  yet  you  do  her  honor. 
I  cannot  blame  you,"  and  with  a  farewell  glance,  in 
which  there  was  a  curious  blending  of  despair  and 
gratified  pride,  he  ran  after  the  boy. 

Vesper  went  up-stairs  to  his  mother,  who  an 
nounced  herself  no  better,  and  begged  only  that  she 
might  not  be  disturbed.  He  accordingly  descended 
to  the  dining-room  and  took  his  place  at  the  table. 

Rose  was  quietly  moving  to  and  fro  with  a  height 
ened  color.  She  was  glad  that  Agapit  was  away,  — 
it  was  more  agreeable  to  her  to  have  only  one  lord 
and  master  present ;  yet,  sensitively  alive  to  the  idio 
syncrasies  of  this  new  one,  she  feared  that  he  was 
disapproving  of  her  unusual  number  of  guests. 

He,  however,  nobly  suppressed  his  disapproval,  and 
even  talked  pleasantly  of  recent  political  happenings 
in  his  own  country  with  some  travelling  agents  who 
happened  to  be  some  of  his  own  fellow  citizens. 

"Ah,  it  is  a  wonderful  thing,  this  love,"  she  said 
to  herself,  as  she  went  to  the  kitchen  for  a  fresh  sup- 


FOR    THE   HONOR    OF   THEIR  RACE.  21$ 

ply  of  coffee  ;  "  it  makes  one  more  anxious  to  please, 
and  to  think  less  of  oneself.  Mr.  Nimmo  wishes 
to  aid  me,  —  and  yet,  though  he  is  so  kind,  he  slightly 
wrinkles  his  beautiful  eyebrows  when  I  place  dishes 
on  the  table.  He  does  not  like  me  to  serve.  He 
would  have  me  sit  by  him  ;  some  day  I  shall  do  so  ;  " 
and,  overcome  by, the  confused  bliss  of  the  thought, 
she  retired  behind  the  pantry  door,  where  the  curious 
Celina  found  her  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands, 
and  in  quick,  feminine  intuition  at  once  guessed  her 
secret. 

There  were  many  dishes  to  wash  after  supper,  and 
Vesper,  who  was  keeping  an  eye  on  the  kitchen,  in 
wardly  applauded  Celina,  who,  instead  of  running  to 
the  door  as  she  usually  did  to  exchange  pleasantries 
with  waiting  friends  and  admirers,  accomplished  her 
tasks  with  surprising  celerity.  In  the  brief  space  of 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  she  was  ready  to  go  out, 
and  after  donning  a  fresh  blouse  and  a  clean  apron, 
and  coquettishly  tying  a  handkerchief  on  her  head, 
she  went  to  the  lawn,  where  she  would  play  croquet 
and  gossip  with  her  friends  until  the  stars  came  out. 

Vesper  left  the  smokers  on  the  veranda  and  the 
chattering  women  in  the  parlor,  and  sauntered 
through  the  quiet  dining-room  and  kitchen.  Rose 
was  nowhere  in  sight,  but  her  pet  kitten,  that  followed 
her  from  morning  till  night,  was  mewing  at  the  door 
of  a  small  room  used  as  a  laundry. 


214  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Vesper  cautiously  looked  in.  The  supple  young 
back  of  his  sweetheart  was  bent  over  a  wash-tub. 
"Rose,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  are  you  doing?" 

She  turned  a  blushing  face  over  her  shoulder. 
"  Only  a  little  washing  —  a  very  little.  The  washer 
woman  forgot." 

Vesper  walked  around  the  tub. 

"  It  was  such  a  pleasure,"  she  stammered.  "  I  did 
not  know  that  you  would  wish  to  talk  to  me  till  per 
haps  later  on." 

Her  slender  hands  gripped  a  white  garment  affec 
tionately,  and  partly  lifted  it  from  the  soap-suds. 
Vesper,  peering  in  the  tub,  discovered  that  it  was  one 
of  the  white  jerseys  that  he  wore  bicycling,  and, 
gently  taking  it  from  her,  he  dropped  it  out  of  sight 
in  the  foam. 

"But  it  is  of  wool,  —  it  will  shrink,"  she  said,  anx 
iously. 

He  laughed,  dried  her  white  arms  on  his  handker 
chief,  and  begged  her  to  sit  down  on  a  bench  beside  him. 

She  shyly  drew  back  and,  pulling  down  her  sleeves, 
seated  herself  on  a  stool  opposite. 

"Rose,"  he  said,  seriously,  "do  you  know  how  to 
flirt?" 

Her  beautiful  lips  parted,  and  she  laughed  in  a 
gleeful,  wholehearted  way  that  reminded  him  of  Nar- 
cisse.  "  I  think  that  it  would  be  possible  to  learn," 
she  said,  demurely. 


FOR  THE  HONOR  OF  THEIR  RACE.     21$ 

Vesper  did  not  offer  to  teach  her.  He  fell  into  an 
intoxicated  silence,  and  sat  musing  on  this,  the  purest 
and  sweetest  passion  of  his  life.  What  had  she  done 
—  this  simple  Acadien*woman — to  fill  his  heart  with 
such  profound  happiness  ?  A  light  from  the  window 
behind  her  shone  around  her  flaxen  head,  and  re 
minded  him  of  the  luminous  halos  surrounding  the 
heads  of  her  favorite  saints.  Since  the  ecstatic 
dreams  of  boyhood  he  had  experienced  nothing  like 
this,  —  and  yet  this  dream  was  more  extended,  more 
spiritual  and  less  earthly  than  those,  for  infinite 
worlds  of  happiness  now  unfolded  themselves  to  his 
vision,  and  endless  possibilities  and  responsibilities 
stretched  out  before  him.  This  woman's  life  would 
be  given  fearlessly  into  his  hands,  and  also  the  life  of 
her  child.  He,  Vesper  Nimmo,  almost  a  broken  link 
in  humanity's  chain,  would  become  once  more  a  part 
in  the  glorious  whole. 

Rose,  enraptured  with  this  intellectual  love-making, 
sat  watching  every  varying  emotion  playing  over  her 
lover's  face.  How  different  he  was  from  Charlitte,  — 
ah,  poor  Charlitte  !  —  and  she  shuddered.  He  was  so 
rough,  so  careless.  He  had  been  like  a  good-natured 
bear  that  wished  a  plaything.  He  had  not  loved  her 
as  gently,  as  tenderly  as  this  man  did. 

"  Rose,"    asked   Vesper,   suddenly,    "  what  is  the 
matter  with  Agapit  ?  " 

"  I   do  not  know,"   she  said,  and  her  face  grew 


2l6  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

troubled.      "  Perhaps   he  is   angry  that   I   have  told 
a  story,  for  I  said  I  would  not  marry." 

"Why  should  he  not  wish  you  to  marry  ?" 

Again  she  said  that  she  did  not  know. 

"  Will  you  marry  me  in  six  weeks  ?  " 

"  I  will  marry  when  you  wish,"  she  replied,  with 
dignity,  "  yet  I  beg  you  to  think  well  of  it.  My  little 
boy  is  in  his  bed,  and  when  I  no  longer  see  him,  I 
doubt.  There  are  so  few  things  that  I  know.  If  I 
go  to  yovir  dear  country,  that  you  love  so  much,  you 
may  drop  your  head  in  shame,  —  notwithstanding 
what  you  have  said,  I  give  you  up  if  you  wish." 

"Womanlike,  you  must  inject  a  drop  of  bitterness 
into  the  only  full  cup  of  happiness  ever  lifted  to  your 
lips.  Let  us  suppose,  however,  that  you  are  right. 
My  people  are  certainly  not  as  your  people.  Shall 
we  part  now,  —  shall  I  go  away  to-morrow,  and  never 
see  you  again  ?  " 

Rose  stared  blindly  at  him. 

"Are  you  willing  for  me  to  go?"  he  asked, 
quietly. 

His  motive  in  suggesting  the  parting  was  the  not 
unworthy  one  of  a  lover  who  longs  for  an  open  expres 
sion  of  affection  from  one  dear  to  him,  yet  he  was 
shocked  at  the  signs  of  Rose's  suppressed  passion 
and  inarticulate  terror.  She  did  not  start  from  her 
seat,  she  did  not  throw  herself  in  his  inviting  arms, 
and  beg  him  to  stay  with  her.  No  ;  the  terrified  blue 


FOR    THE   HONOR    OF   THEIR   RACE.  21 J 

eyes  were  lowered  meekly  to  the  floor,  and,  in  scarcely 
audible  accents,  she  murmured,  "What  seems  right 
to  you  must  be  done." 

"  Rose,  —  I  shall  never  leave  you." 

"  I  feel  that  I  have  reached  up  to  heaven,  and 
plucked  out  a  very  bright  star,"  she  stammered,  with 
white  lips,  "and  yet  here  it  is,"  and  trying  to  conceal 
her  agony,  she  opened  her  clenched  and  quivering 
hand,  as  if  to  restore  something  to  him. 

He  went  down  on  his  knees  before  her.  "You 
are  a  princess  among  your  people,  Rose.  Keep  the 
star,  —  it  is  but  a  poor  ornament  for  you,"  and  seizing 
her  suffering  hands,  he  clasped  them  to  his  breast. 
"  Listen,  till  I  tell  you  my  reasons  for  not  leaving 
the  woman  who  has  given  me  my  life  and  inspired 
me  with  hope  for  the  future." 

Rose  listened,  and  grew  pale  at  his  eloquent  words, 
and  still  more  eloquent  pauses. 

After  some  time,  a  gentle,  melancholy  smile  came 
creeping  to  her  face ;  a  smile  that  seemed  to  reflect 
past  suffering  rather  than  present  joy.  "  It  is  like 
pain,"  she  said,  and  she  timidly  laid  a  finger  on  his 
dark  head,  "this  great  joy.  I -have  had  so  many 
terrors,  —  I  have  loved  you  so  long,  I  find,  and  I 
thought  you  would  die." 

Vesper  felt  that  his  veins  had  been  filled  with  some 
glowing  elixir  of  earthly  and  heavenly  delight.  How 
adorable  she  was,  —  how  unique,  with  her  modesty, 


2l8  HOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

her  shyness,  her  restrained  eagerness.  Surely  he 
ha.d  found  the  one  peerless  woman  in  the  world. 

"Talk  to  me  more  about  yourself  and  your  feel 
ings,"  he  entreated. 

"I  have  longed  to  tell  you,"  she  murmured,  "that 
you  have  taught  me  what  it  is,  —  this  love ;  and  also 
that  one  does  not  make  it,  for  it  is  life  or  death,  and 
therefore  can  only  come  from  the  Lord  When  you 
speak,  your  words  are  so  agreeable  that  they  are  like 
rain  on  dusty  ground.  I  feel  that  you  are  quite 
admirable,"  and,  interrupting  herself,  she  bent  over 
to  gently  kiss  his  cheek  as  he  still  knelt  before 
her.  i 

"  Continue,  Rose,"  he  said,  shutting  his  eyes  in 
an  ecstasy. 

"I  speak  freely,"  she  said,  "because  I  feel  that  I 
can  trust  you  without  fear,  and  always,  always  love  and 
serve  you  till  you  are  quite,  quite  old.  I  also  under 
stand  you.  Formerly  I  did  not.  You  say  that  I  am 
like  a  princess.  Ah,  not  so  much  as  you.  You  are 
altogether  like  a  prince.  You  had  the  air  of  being 
contented ;  I  did  not  know  your  thoughts.  Now  I  can 
look  into  your  beautiful  white  soul.  You  hide  noth 
ing  from  me.  No,  do  not  put  your  face  down.  You 
are  a  very,  very  good  man.  I  do  not  think  that  there 
can  be  any  one  so  good." 

Vesper  looked  up,  and  laid  a  finger  across  the 
sweet,  praising  mouth. 


FOR    THE   HONOR    OF   THEIR   RACE.  219 

"Let  us  talk  of  your  mother,"  said  Rose.  "Since 
I  love  you,  I  love  her  more ;  but  she  does  not  like 
me  equally." 

"  But  she  will,  my  ingenuous  darling.  I  have 
talked  to  her  twice.  She  is  quite  reconciled,  but  it 
will  take  time  for  her  to  act  a  mother's  part.  You 
will  have  patience  ?  " 

Rose  wrinkled  her  delicate  brows.  "  I  put  myself 
in  her  place,  —  ah,  how  hard  for  her  !  Let  me  fancy 
you  my  son.  How  could  I  give  you  up  ?  And  yet 
it  would  be  wrong  for  her  to  take  you  from  one  who 
can  make  you  more  happy  ;  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Vesper  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Yes,  Rose ;  it  is 
you  and  I  against  the  world,  —  one  heart,  one  soul ; 
it  is  wonderful,  and  a  great  mystery,"  and  clasping 
his  hands  behind  him,  he  walked  to  and  fro  along  the 
narrow  room. 

Rose,  with  a  transfigured  face,  watched  him,  and 
hung  on  every  word  falling  from  his  lips,  as  he  spoke 
of  his  plans  for  the  future,  his  disappointed  hopes 
and  broken  aspirations  of  the  past.  It  did  not  occur 
to  either  of  them,  so  absorbed  were  they  with  each 
other,  to  glance  at  the  small  window  overlooking  the 
dooryard,  where  an  eager  face  came  and  went  at 
intervals. 

Sometimes  the  face  was  angry  ;  sometimes  sorrow 
ful.  Sometimes  a  clenched  fist  was  raised  between  it 
and  the  glass  as  if  at  an  imaginary  enemy.  The  un- 


220  ROSE    A    CHAKLITTE. 

fortunate  watcher,  in  great  perplexity  of  mind,  was 
going  through  every  gesture  in  the  pantomine  of 
distress. 

The  lovers,  unmindful  of  him,  continued  their  con 
versation,  and  the  suffering  Agapit  continued  to 
suffer. 

Vesper  talked  and  walked  on,  occasionally  stopping 
to  listen  to  a  remark  from  Rose,  or  to  bend  over  her 
in  an  adoring,  respectful  attitude  while  he  bestowed  a 
caress  or  received  a  shy  and  affectionate  one  from 
her. 

"  It  is  sinful, —  I  should  interrupt,"  groaned  Agapit, 
"  yet  it  would  be  cruel.  They  are  in  paradise.  Ah, 
dear  blessed  Virgin,  —  mother  of  suffering  hearts,  — 
have  pity  on  them,  for  they  are  both  noble,  both  good  ;" 
and  he  dashed  his  hand  across  his  eyes  to  hide  the 
sight  of  the  beautiful  head  held  as  tenderly  between 
the  hands  of  the  handsome  stranger  as  if  it  were  in 
deed  a  fragile,  full-blown  rose. 

"  They  take  leave,"  he  muttered  ;  "  I  will  look  no 
more, —  it  is  a  sacrilege,"  and  he  rushed  into  the  house 
by  another  door. 

The  croquet  players  called  to  him  from  the  lawn. 
He  could  hear  the  click  of  the  balls  and  the  merry 
voices  as  he  passed,  but  he  paid  no  heed  to  them. 
Only  in  the  dining-room  did  he  stay  his  hasty  steps. 
There,  in  front  of  the  picture  of  Rose's  husband,  he 
paused  with  uplifted  arm. 


FOR    THE  HONOR    OF   THEIR   RACE.  221 

"  Scoundrel !  "  he  muttered,  furiously  ;  then  striking 
his  fist  through  the  glass,  he  shattered  the  portrait, 
from  the  small  twinkling  eyes  to  its  good-natured,  sen 
suous  mouth. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE  SUBLIMEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD. 

"  Ah,  tragedy  of  lusty  life  !   How  oft 

Some  high  emprise  a  soul  divinely  grips, 
But  as  it  crests,  fate's  undertow  despoils  !  " 

THEODORE  H.  RAND. 

MRS.  NIMMO  was  better  the  next  morning,  and,  ris 
ing  betimes,  gave  her  son  an  early  audience  in  her 
room. 

"You  need  not  tell  me  anything,"  she  said,  with 
a  searching  glance  at  him.  "  It  is  all  arranged  be 
tween  you  and  the  Acadien  woman.  I  know,  —  you 
cannot  stave  off  these  things.  I  will  be  good,  Vesper, 
only  give  me  time,  —  give  me  time,  and  let  us  have  no 
explanations.  You  can  tell  her  that  you  have  not 
spoken  to  me,  and  she  will  not  expect  me  to  gush." 

Her  voice  died  away  in  a  pitiful  quaver,  and  Vesper 
quietly,  but  with  intense  affection,  kissed  the  cold 
cheek  she  offered  him. 

"  Go  away,"  she  said,* pushing  him  from  her,  "  or  I 
shall  break  down,  and  I  want  my  strength  for  the 
journey." 

222 


THE   SUBLIMEST   THING   IN   THE    WORLD.  22$ 

Vesper  went  down-stairs,  his  eyes  running  before 
him  for  the  sweet  presence  of  Rose.  She  was  not  in 
the  dining-room,  and  with  suppressed  disappointment 
he  looked  curiously  at  Celina,  who  was  red-eyed  and 
doleful,  and  requested  her  to  take  his  mother's  break 
fast  up-stairs.  Then,  with  a  disagreeable  premonition 
of  trouble,  he  turned  his  attention  to  Agapit,  whose 
face  had  turned  a  sickly  yellow  and  who  was  toying 
abstractedly  with  his  food.  He  appeared  to  be  ill, 
and,  refusing  to  talk,  waited  silently  for  Vesper  to  fin 
ish  his  breakfast. 

"  Will  you  come  to  the  smoking-room  ?  "  he  then 
said  ;  and  being  answered  by  a  silent  nod,  he  preceded 
Vesper  to  that  room  and  carefully  closed  the  door. 

"  Now  give  me  your  hand,"  he  said,  tragically,  "for 
I  am  going  to  make  you  angry,  and  perhaps  you  will 
never  again  clasp  mine  in  friendship." 

"  Get  out,"  said  Vesper,  peevishly.  "  I  detest  melo 
drama,  —  and  say  quickly  what  you  have  to  say.  We 
have  only  an  hour  before  the  train  leaves." 

"My  speech  can  be  made  in  a  short  time,"  said 
Agapit,  solemnly.  "  Your  farewell  of  Sleeping  Water 
to-day  must  be  eternal." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Agapit,  but  go  look  for  a  rope  for 
my  mother's  trunk  ;  she  has  lost  the  straps." 

"  If  I  found  a  rope  it  would  be  to  hang  myself," 
said  .Agapit,  desperately.  "  Never  was  I  so  unhappy, 
never,  never." 


224  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  What  is  wrong  with  you  ?  " 

""I  am  desolated  over  your  engagement  to  my  cousin. 
We  thank  you  for  the  honor,  but  we  decline  it." 

"  Indeed  !  as  the  engagement  does  not  include  you, 
I  must  own  that  I  will  take  my  dismissal  only  from 
your  cousin." 

"  Look  at  me,  —  do  I  seem  like  one  in  play  ?  God 
knows  I  do  not  wish  to  torment  you.  All  night  I 
walked  my  floor,  and  Rose,  —  unhappy  Rose  !  I  shud 
der  when  I  think  how  she  passed  the  black  hours 
after  my  cruel  revealings." 

"  What  have  you  said  to  Rose  ?  "  asked  Vesper,  in  a 
fury.  "  You  forget  that  she  now  belongs  to  me." 

"  She  belongs  to  no  one  but  our  Lord,"  said 
Agapit,  in  an  agony.  "  You  cannot  have  her,  though 
the  thought  makes  my  heart  bleed  for  you." 

Vesper's  face  flushed.  "  If  you  will  let  it  stop 
bleeding  long  enough  to  be  coherent,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  you." 

"  Oh,  do  not  be  angry  with  me,  —  let  me  tell  you 
now  that  I  love  you  for  your  kindness  to  my  people. 
You  came  among  us,  —  you,  an  Englishman.  You  did 
not  despise  us.  You  offer  my  cousin  your  hand,  and 
it  breaks  our  hearts  to  refuse  it,  but  she  cannot  marry 
you.  She  sends  you  that  message,  —  '  You  must  go 
away  and  forget  me.  Marry  another  woman  if  you 
so  care.  I  must  give  you  up.'  These  are  her  words 
as  she  stood  pale  and  cold." 


THE  SUBLIMES 'T  THING  IN  THE  WORLD.  22$ 

Vesper  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  big  table 
in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Very  deliberately  he  took 
out  his  watch  and  laid  it  beside  him.  So  intense  was 
the  stillness  of  the  room,  so  nervously  sensitive  and 
unstrung  was  Agapit  by  his  night's  vigil,  that  he 
started  at  the  rattling  of  the  chain  on  the  poMshed 
surface. 

"I  give  you  five  minutes,"  said  Vesper,  "to  ex 
plain  your  attitude  towards  your  cousin,  on  the  sub 
ject  of  her  marriage.  As  I  understand  the  matter, 
you  were  an  orphan  brought  up  by  her  father.  Of 
late  years  you.  arrogate  the  place  of  a  brother. 
Your  decisions  are  supreme.  You  announce  now  that 
she  is  not  to  marry.  You  have  some  little  knowledge 
of  me.  .  Do  you  fancy  that  I  will  be  put  off  by  any  of 
your  trumpery  fancies  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Agapit,  wildly.  "  I  know  you  bet 
ter,  —  you  have  a  will  of  steel.  But  can  you  not  trust 
me  ?  I  say  an  impediment  exists.  It  is  like  a  moun 
tain.  You  cannot  get  over  it,  you  cannot  get  around 
it ;  it  would  pain  you  to  know,  and  I  cannot  tell  it. 
Go  quietly  away  therefore." 

Vesper  was  excessively  angry.  With  his  love  for 
Rose  had  grown  a  certain  jealousy  of  Agapit,  whose 
influence  over  her  had  been  unbounded.  Yet  he 
controlled  himself,  and  said,  coldly,  "  There  are  other 
ways  of  getting  past  a  mountain." 

"By  flying?"  said  Agapit,  eagerly. 


226  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  No,  —  tunnelling.  Tell  me  now  how  long  this 
obstacle  has  existed  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  more  agreeable  to  me  not  to  answer 
questions." 

"  I  daresay,  but  I  shall  stay  here  until  you  do." 

"Then,  it  is  one  year,"  said  Agapit,  reluctantly. 

"  It  has,  therefore,  not  arisen  since  I  came  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  a  thousand  times  no." 

"  It  is  a  question  of  religion  ?  " 

"No,  it  is  not,"  said  Agapit,  indignantly;  "we  are 
not  in  the  Middle  Ages." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  we  are ;  does  Rose's  priest 
know?" 

"Yes,  but  not  through  her." 

"  Through  you,  —  at  confession  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  would  die  rather  than  break  the  seal 
of  confession." 

"  Of  course.  Does  any  one  here  but  you 
know  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  no ;  only  myself,  and  Rose's  uncle,  and 
one  other." 

"  It  has  something  to  do  with  her  first  marriage," 
said  Vesper,  sharply.  "  Did  she  promise  her  husband 
not  to  marry  again  ?  " 

Agapit  would  not  answer  him. 

"You  are  putting  me  off  with  some  silly  bugbear," 
said  Vesper,  contemptuously. 

"  A  bugbear !  holy  mother  of  angels,  it  is  a  ques- 


THE  SUBLIMEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD.  2.2"] 

tion  of  the  honor  of  our  race.  But  for  that,  I  would 
tell  you." 

"  You  do  not  wish  her  to  marry  me  because  I  am 
an  American." 

"  I  would  be  proud  to  have  her  marry  an  Ameri 
can,"  said  Agapit,  vehemently. 

"  I  shall  not  waste  more  time  on  you,"  said  Vesper, 
disdainfully.  "  Rose  will  explain." 

"  You  must  not  go  to  her,"  said  Agapik,  blocking 
his  way.  "  She  is  in  a  strange  state.  I  fear  for  her 
reason." 

"  You  do,"  muttered  Vesper,  "and  you  try  to  keep 
me  from  her  ?  " 

Agapit  stood  obstinately  pressing  his  back  against 
the  door. 

"  You  want  her  for  yourself,"  said  Vesper,  sud 
denly  striking  him  a  smart  blow  across  the  face. 

The  Acadien  sprang  forward,  his  burly  frame 
trembled,  his  hot  breath  enveloped  Vesper's  face  as 
he  stood  angrily  regarding  him.  Then  he  turned  on 
his  heel,  and  pressed  his  handkerchief  to  his  bleeding 
lips. 

"I  will  not  strike  you,"  he  mumbled,  "for  you 
do  not  understand.  I,  too,  have  loved  and  been 
unhappy." 

The  glance  that  he  threw  over  his  shoulder  was 
so  humble,  so  forgiving,  that  Vesper's  heart  was 
touched. 


228  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

11 1  ask  your  pardon,  Agapit,  —  you  have  worried 
me  out  of  my  senses,"  and  he  warmly  clasped  the 
hand  that  the  Acadien  extended  to  him. 

"  Come,"  said  Agapit,  with  an  adorable  smile. 
"  Follow  me.  You  have  a  generous  heart.  You 
shall  see  your  Rose." 

Agapit  knocked  softly  at  his  cousin's  door,  then,  on 
receiving  permission,  entered  with  a  reverent  step. 

Vesper  had  never  been  in  this  little  white  chamber 
before.  One  comprehensive  glance  he  bestowed  on 
it,  then  his  eyes  came  back  to  Rose,  who  had,  he 
knew  without  being  told,  spent  the  whole  night  on 
her  knees  before  the  niche  in  the  wall,  where  stood  a 
pale  statuette  of  the  Virgin. 

This  was  a  Rose  he  did  not  know,  and  one  whose 
frozen  beauty  struck  a  deadly  chill  to  his  heart.  He 
had  lost  her,  —  he  knew  it  before  she  opened  her  lips. 
She  seemed  not  older,  but  younger.  The  look  on  her 
face  he  had  seen  on  the  faces  of  dead  children  ;  the 
blood  had  been  frightened  from  her  very  lips.  What 
was  it  that  had  given  her  this  deadly  shock  ?  He 
was  more  than  ever  determined  to  know,  and,  subdu 
ing  every  emotion  but  that  of  stern  curiosity,  he  stood 
expectant. 

"You  insisted  on  an  adieu,"  she  murmured,  pain 
fully. 

"I  am  coming  back  in  a  week,"  said  Vesper,  stub 
bornly. 


"'AGAPIT,'    SHE    MURMURED,    'CAN    WE    NOT    TELL    HIM?" 


THE  SUBLIMEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD.  2  29 

The  hand  that  held  her  prayer-book  trembled. 
"  You  have  told  him  that  he  must  not  return  ? " 
and  she  turned  to  Agapit,  and  lifted  her  flaxen  eye 
brows,  that  seemed  almost  dark  against  the  unearthly 
pallor  of  her  skin. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  gusty  sigh.  "I  have  told 
him,  but  he  does  not  heed  me." 

"  It  is  for  the  honor  of  our  race,"  she  said  to  Ves 
per. 

"Rose,"  he  said,  keenly,  "do  you  think  I  will  give 
you  up  ? " 

Her  white  lips  quivered.  "  You  must  go ;  it  is 
wrong  for  me  even  to  see  you." 

Vesper  stared  at  Agapit,  and  seeing  that  he  was 
determined  not  to  leave  the  room,  he  turned  his  back 
squarely  on  him.  "  Rose,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
"Rose." 

The  saint  died  in  her,  the  woman  awoke.  Little 
by  little  the  color  crept  back  to  her  face.  Her  ears, 
her  lips,  her  cheeks,  and  brow  were  suffused  with  the 
faint,  delicate  hue  of  the  flower  whese  name  she  bore. 

A  passionate  light  sprang  into  her  blue  eyes. 
"Agapit,"  she  murmured,  "Agapit,"  yet  her  glance 
did  not  leave  Vesper's  face,  "  can  we  not  tell  him  ?  " 

"  Shall  we  be  unfaithful  to  our  race  ? "  said  her 
cousin,  inexorably. 

"  What  is  our  race  ?  "  she  asked,  wildly.  "  There  are 
the  Acadiens,  there  are  also  the  Americans,  —  the 


230  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

one  Lord  makes  all.  Agapit,  permit  that  we  tell 
him." 

"Think  of  your  oath,  Rose." 

"  My  oath  —  my  oath  —  and  did  I  not  also  swear 
to  love  him  ?  I  told  him  only  yesterday,  and  now  I 
must  give  him  up  forever,  and  cause  him  pain. 
Agapit,  you  shall  tell  him.  He  must  not  go  away 
angry.  Ah,  my  cousin,  my  cousin,"  and,  evading 
Vesper,  she  stretched  out  the  prayer-book,  "by  our 
holy  religion,  I  beg  that  you  have  pity.  Tell  him, 
tell  him,  —  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  It  will  kill 
me  if  he  goes  angry  from  me." 

There  were  tears  of  agony  in  her  eyes,  and  Agapit 
faltered  as  he  surveyed  her. 

"  We  are  to  be  alone  here  all  the  years,"  she  said, 
"you  and  I.  It  will  be  a  sin  even  to  think  of  the 
past.  Let  us  have  no  thought  to  start  with  as  sad  as 
this,  that  we  let  one  so  dear  go  out  in  the  world 
blaming  us." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Agapit,  sullenly,  "I  surrender. 
Tell  you  this  stranger  ;  let  him  have  part  in  an  un 
usual  shame  of  our  people." 

"  I  tell  him  !  "  and  she  drew  back,  hurt  and  startled. 
"  No,  Agapit,  that  confession  comes  better  from  thee. 
Adieu,  adieu,"  and  she  turned,  in  a  paroxysm  of 
tenderness,  to  Vesper,  and  in  her  anguish  burst  into 
her  native  language.  "  After  this  minute,  I  must 
put  thee  far  from  my  thoughts,  —  thou,  so  good,  so 


THE  SUBLIMEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD.  2$  I 

kind,  that  I  had  hoped  to  walk  with  through  life. 
But  purgatory  does  not  last  forever ;  the  blessed 
saints  also  suffered.  After  we  die,  perhaps—  "  and 
she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  wept  violently. 

"But  do  not  thou  remember,"  she  said  at  last, 
checking  her  tears.  "  Go  out  into  the  world  and  find 
another,  better  wife.  I  release  thee,  go,  go  — 

Vesper  said  nothing,  but  he  gave  Agapit  a  terrible 
glance,  and  that  young  man,  although  biting  his  lip 
and  scowling  fiercely,  discreetly  stepped  into  the 
hall. 

For  half  a  minute  Rose  lay  unresistingly  in  Ves 
per's  arms,  then  she  gently  forced  him  from  the  room, 
and  with  a  low  and  bitter  cry,  "For  this  I  must 
atone,"  she  opened  her  prayer-book,  and  again 
dropped  on  her  knees. 

Once  more  the  two  young  men  found  themselves 
in  the  smoking-room. 

"  Now,  what  is  it  ?  "  asked  Vesper,  sternly. 

Agapit  hung  his  head.  In  accents  of  deepest 
shame  he  murmured,  "  Charlitte  yet  lives." 

"  Charlitte  —  what,  Rose's  husband  ?  " 

A  miserable  nod  from  Agapit  answered  his  ques 
tion. 

"  It  is  rumor,"  stammered  Vesper ;  "  it  cannot  be. 
You  said  that  he  was  dead." 

"  He  has  been  seen,  —  the  miserable  man  lives  with 
another  woman." 


232  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Vesper  had  received  the  worst  blow  of  his  life,  yet 
his  black  eyes  fixed  themselves  steadily  on  Agapit's 
face.  "  What  proof  have  you  ?  " 

Agapit  stumbled  through  some  brief  sentences. 
"  An  Acadien  —  Michel  Amireau  —  came  home  to  die. 
He  was  a  sailor.  He  had  seen  Charlitte  in  New 
Orleans.  He  had  changed  his  name,  yet  Michel 
knew  him,  and  went  to  the  uncle  of  Rose,  on  the 
Bayou  Vermilion.  The  uncle  promised  to  watch 
him.  That  is  why  he  is  so  kind  to  Rose,  this  good 
uncle,  and  sends  her  so  much.  But  Charlitte  goes 
no  more  to  sea,  but  lives  with  this  woman.  He  is 
happy ;  such  a  devil  should  die." 

Vesper  was  stunned  and  bewildered,  yet  his  mind 
had  never  worked  more  clearly.  "  Does  any  other 
person  know  ?  "  he  asked,  sharply. 

"  No  one  ;  Michel  would  not  tell,  and  he  is  dead." 

Veeper  leaned  on  a  chair-back,  and  convulsively 
clasped  his  fingers  until  every  drop  of  blood  seemed 
to  have  left  them.  "  Why  did  he  leave  Rose  ?  " 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  "  said  Agapit,  drearily.  "  Rose 
is  beautiful ;  this  other  woman  unbeautiful  and  older, 
much  older.  But  Charlitte  was  always  gross  like  a 
pig,  —  but  good-natured.  Rose  was  too  fine,  too 
spiritual.  She  smiled  at  him,  she  did  not  drink,  nor 
dance,  nor  laugh  loudly.  These  are  the  women  he 
likes." 

"  How  old  is  he  ?  " 


THE   SUBLIMEST   THING  IN   THE    WORLD.     233 

"  Not  old,  —  fifty,  perhaps.  If  our  Lord  would 
only  let  him  die  !  But  those  men  live  forever.  He 
is  strong,  very  strong." 

"  Would  Rose  consent  to  a  divorce  ?  " 

"A  divorce!     Mon  Dieu,  she  is  a  good  Catholic." 

Vesper  sank  into  a  chair  and  dropped  his  head  on 
his  hand.  Hot,  rebellious  thoughts  leaped  into  his 
heart.  Yesterday  he  had  been  so  happy  ;  to-day  — 

"My  friend,"  said  Agapit,  softly,  "do  not  give 
way." 

His  words  stung  Vesper  as  if  they  had  been  an 
insult. 

"  I  am  not  giving  way,"  he  said,  fiercely.  "I  am 
trying  to  find  a  way  out  of  this  diabolical  scrape." 

"  But  surely  there  is  only  one  road  to  follow." 

Vesper  said  nothing,  but  his  eyes  were  blazing, 
and  Agapit  recoiled  from  him  with  a  look  of  terror. 

"  You  surely  would  not  influence  one  who  loves 
you  to  do  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  Rose  is  mine,"  said  Vesper,  grimly. 

"  But  she  is  married  to  Charlitte." 

"  To  a  dastardly  villain,  —  she  must  separate  from 
him." 

"  But  she  cannot." 

"  She  will  if  I  ask  her,"  and  Vesper  started  up,  as 
if  he  were  about  to  seek  her. 

"  Stop  but  an  instant,"  and  Agapit  pressed  both 
hands  to  his  forehead  with  a  gesture  of  bewilderment. 


234  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"Let  me  say  over  some  things  first  to  you.  Think 
of  what  you  have  done  here,  —  you,  so  quiet,  so 
strong,  —  so  pretending  not  to  be  good,  and  yet 
very  good.  You  have  led  Rose  as  a  grown  one  leads 
a  child.  Before  you  came  I  did  not  revere  her  as  I 
do  at  present.  She  is  now  so  careful,  she  will  not 
speak  even  the  least  of  untruths  ;  she  wishes  to  im 
prove  herself,  —  to  be  more  fitted  for  the  company  of 
the  blessed  in  heaven." 

Vesper  made  some  inarticulate  sound  in  his  throat, 
and  Agapit  went  on  hurriedly.  "  Women  are  weak, 
men  are  imperious  ;  she  may,  perhaps,  do  anything 
you  say,  but  is  it  not  well  to  think  over  exactly  what 
one  would  tell  her  ?  She  is  in  trouble  now,  but  soon 
she  will  recover  and  look  about  her.  She  will  see  all 
the  world  equally  so.  There  are  good  priests  with 
sore  hearts,  also  holy  women,  but  they  serve  God. 
All  the  world  cannot  marry.  Marriage,  what  is  it  ?  — 
a  little  living  together,  —  a  separation.  There  is  also 
a  holy  union  of  hearts.  We  can  live  for  God,  you, 
and  I,  and  Rose,  but  for  a  time  is  it  not  best  that  we 
do  not  see  each  other  ?  " 

Again  Vesper  did  not  reply  except  by  a  convulsive 
movement  of  his  shoulders,  and  an  impatient  drum 
ming  on  the  table  with  his  fingers. 

"  Dear  young  man,  whom  I  so  much  admire,"  said 
Agapit,  leaning  across  towards  him,  "  I  have  confi 
dence  in  you.  You,  who  think  so  much  of  the  honor 


THE  SUBLIMEST   THING   IN   THE    WORLD.     235 

of  your  race,  —  you  who  shielded  the  name  of  your 
ancestor  lest  dishonor  should  come  on  it,  I  trust  you 
fully.  You  will,  some  day  when  it  seems  good  to 
you,  find  out  this  child  who  has  cast  off  her  race  ;  and 
now  go,  —  the  door  is  open,  seek  Rose  if  you  will. 
You  will  say  nothing  unworthy  to  her.  You  know 
love,  the  greatest  of  things,  but  you  also  know  duty, 
the  sublimest." 

His  voice  died  away,  and  Vesper  still  preserved  a 
dogged  silence.  At  last,  however,  his  struggle  with 
himself  was  over,  and  in  a  harsh,  rough  voice,  utterly 
unlike  his  usual  one,  he  looked  up  and  said,  "  Have 
we  time  to  catch  the  train  ? " 

"  By  driving  fast,"  said  Agapit,  mildly,  "  we  may. 
Possibly  the  train  is  late  also." 

"  Make  haste  then,"  said  Vesper,  and  he  hurried 
to  his  mother,  whose  voice  he  heard  in  the  hall. 

Agapit  fairly  ran  to  the  stable,  and  as  he  ran  he 
muttered,  "  We  are  all  very  young,  —  the  old  ones 
say  that  trouble  cuts  into  the  hearts  of  youth.  Let 
us  pray  our  Lord  for  old  age." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

NARCISSE    GOES    IN    SEARCH    OF    THE    ENGLISHMAN. 
"  L'homme  s'agite,  Dieu  le  m£ne." 

MRS.  NIMMO  was  a  very  unhappy  woman.  She 
had  never  before  had  a  trouble  equal  to  this  trouble, 
and,  as  she  sat  at  the  long  window  in  the  bedroom  of 
her  absent  son,  she  drearily  felt  that  it  was  eating 
the  heart  and  spirit  out  of  her. 

Vesper  was  away,  and  she  had  refused  to  share  his 
unhappy  wanderings,  for  she  knew  that  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  do  so.  Very  calmly  and  coldly  he  had 
told  her  that  his  engagement  to  Rose  a  Charlitte  was 
over.  He  assigned  no  cause  for  it,  and  Mrs.  Nimmo, 
in  her  desperation,  earnestly  wished  that  he  had 
never  heard  of  the  Acadiens,  that  Rose  a  Charlitte 
had  never  been  born,  and  that  the  little  peninsula  of 
Nova  Scotia  had  never  been  traced  on  the  surface 
of  the  globe. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening  of  late  summer.  The 
square  in  which  she  lived  was  cool  and  quiet,  for 
very  few  of  its  inhabitants  had  come  back  from  their 
summer  excursions.  Away  in  the  distance,  beyond 

236 


IN  SEARCH  OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN.          237 

the  leafy  common,  she  could  hear  the  subdued  roar 
of  the  city,  but  on  the  brick  pavements  about  her 
there  was  scarcely  a  footfall. 

The  window  at  which  she  sat  faced  the  south.  In 
winter  her  son's  room  was  flooded  with  sunlight,  but 
in  summer  the  branching  elm  outside  put  forth  a 
kindly  screen  of  leaves  to  shield  it  from  the  too 
oppressive  heat.  Her  glance  wandered  between  the 
delicate  lace  curtains,  swaying  to  and  fro,  to  this  old 
elm  that  seemed  a  member  of  her  family.  How 
much  her  son  loved  it,  —  and  with  an  indulgent 
thought  of  Vesper's  passion  for  the  natives  of  the 
outdoor  world,  a  disagreeable  recollection  of  the 
Acadien  woman's  child  leaped  into  her  mind. 

How  absurdly  fond  of  trees  and  flowers  he  had 
been,  and  what  a  fanciful,  unnatural  child  he  was, 
altogether.  She  had  never  liked  him,  and  he  had 
never  liked  her,  and  she  wrinkled  her  brows  at  the 
distasteful  remembrance  of  him. 

A  knock  at  the  half-open  door  distracted  her  atten 
tion,  and,  languidly  turning  her  head,  she  said,  "What 
is  it,  Henry  ?  " 

"  It's  a  young  woman,  Mis'  Nimmo,"  replied  that 
ever  alert  and  demure  colored  boy,  "  what  sometimes 
brings  you  photographs.  She  come  in  a  hack  with  a 
girl." 

"  Let  her  come  up.  She  may  leave  the  girl 
below." 


238  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  I  guess  that  girl  ain't  a  girl,  Mis'  Nimmo,  —  she 
looks  mighty  like  a  boy.  She's  the  symbol  of  the 
little  feller  in  the  French  place  I  took  you  to." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  gave  him  a  rebuking  glance.  "  Let 
the  girl  remain  down-stairs." 

"  Madame,"  said  a  sudden  voice,  "this  is  now  Bos 
ton,  —  where  is  the  Englishman  ?  " 

Mrs.  Nimmo  started  from  her  chair.  Here  was 
the  French  child  himself,  standing  calmly  before  her 
in  the  twilight,  his  small  body  habited  in  ridiculous 
and  disfiguring  girl's  clothes,  his  cropped  curly  head 
and  white  face  appearing  above  an  absurd  kind  of 
grayish  yellow  cloak. 

"  Narcisse  !  "  she  ejaculated. 

"Madame,"  said  the  faint  yet  determined  little 
voice,  "  is  the  Englishman  in  his  house  ?  " 

Mrs.  Nimmo's  glance  fell  upon  Henry,  who  was 
standing  open-mouthed  and  grotesque,  and  with  a 
gesture  she  sent  him  from  the  room. 

Narcisse,  exhausted  yet  eager,  had  started  on  a 
tour  of  investigation  about  the  room,  holding  up  with 
one  hand  the  girl's  trappings,  which  considerably 
hampered  his  movements,  and  clutching  something 
to  his  breast  with  the  other.  He  had  found  the 
house  of  the  Englishman  and  his  mother,  and  by  sure 
tokens  he  recognized  his  recent  presence  in  this  very 
room.  Here  were  his  books,  his  gloves,  his  cap,  and, 
best  of  all,  another  picture  of  him  ;  and,  with  a  cry  of 


IN  SEARCH  OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN.  239 

delight,  he  dropped  on  a  footstool  before  a  full-length 
portrait  of  the  man  he  adored.  Here  he  would  rest : 
his  search  was  ended  ;  and  meekly  surveying  Mrs. 
Nimmo,  he  murmured,  "  Could  Narcisse  have  a  glass 
of  milk?" 

Mrs.  Nimmo's  emotions  at  present  all  seemed  to 
belong  to  the  order  of  the  intense.  She  had  never 
before  been  so  troubled  ;  she  had  never  before  been 
so  bewildered.  What  did  the  presence  of  this  child 
under  her  roof  mean  ?  Was  his  mother  anywhere 
near  ?  Surely  not,  —  Rose  would  never  clothe  her 
comely  child  in  those  shabby  garments  of  the  other 
sex. 

She  turned  her  puzzled  face  to  the  doorway,  and 
found  an  answer  to  her  questions  in  the  presence  of 
an  anxious-faced  young  woman  there,  who  said,  apolo 
getically,  "  He  got  away  from  me ;  he's  been  like  a 
wild  thing  to  get  here.  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Know  him  ?     Yes,  I  have  seen  him  before." 

The  anxious-faced  young  woman  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief.  "  I  thought,  maybe,  I'd  been  taken  in.  I 
was  just  closing  up  the  studio,  an  hour-ago,  when  two 
men  came  up  the  stairs  with  this  little  fellow  wrapped 
in  an  old  coat.  They  said  they  were  from  a  schooner 
called  the  Nancy  Jane,  down  at  one  of  the  wharves, 
and  they  picked  up  this  boy  in  a  drifting  boat  on  the 
Bay  Saint-Mary  two  days  ago.  They  said  he  was 
frightened  half  out  of  his  senses,  and  was  hold- 


240  A'OSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

ing  on  to  that  photo  in  his  hand,  —  show  the  lady, 
dear." 

Narcisse,  whose  tired  head  was  nodding  sleepily 
on  his  breast,  paid  no  attention  to  her  request,  so  she 
gently  withdrew  one  of  his  hands  from  under  his 
cloak  and  exhibited  in  it  a  torn  and  stained  photo 
graph  of  Vesper. 

Mrs.  Nimmo  caught  her  breath,  and  attempted  to 
take  it  from  him,  but  he  quickly  roused  himself,  and, 
placing  it  beneath  him,  rolled  over  on  the  floor,  and, 
with  a  farewell  glance  at  the  portrait  above,  fell 
sound  asleep. 

"  He's  beat  out,"  said  the  anxious-faced  young 
woman.  "  I'm  glad  I've  got  him  to  friends.  The 
sailors  were  awful  glad  to  get  rid  of  him.  They  kind 
of  thought  he  was  a  French  child  from  Nova  Scotia, 
but  they  hadn't  time  to  run  back  with  him,  for  they 
had  to  hurry  here  with  their  cargo,  and  then  he  held 
on  to  the  photo  and  said  he  wanted  to  be  taken  to 
that  young  man.  The  sailors  saw  our  address  on  it, 
but  they  sort  of  misdoubted  we  wouldn't  keep  him. 
However,  I  thought  I'd  take  him  off  their  hands,  for 
he  was  frightened  to  death  they  would  carry  him 
back  to  their  vessel,  though  I  guess  they  was  kind 
enough  to  him.  I  gave  them  back  their  coat,  and 
borrowed  some  things  from  the  woman  who  takes 
care  of  our  studio.  I  forgot  to  say  the  boy  had  only 
a  night-dress  on  when  they  found  him/' 


IN  SEARCH  OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN.  241 

Mrs.  Nimmo  mechanically  felt  in  her  pocket  for 
her  purse.  "They  didn't  say  anything  about  a 
woman  being  with  him  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  he  wouldn't  talk  to  them  much,  but 
they  said  it  was  likely  a  child's  trick  of  getting  in  a 
boat  and  setting  himself  loose." 

"  Would  you  —  would  you  care  to  keep  him  until 
he  is  sent  for  ? "  faltered  Mrs.  Nimmo. 

"  I  —  oh,  no,  I  couldn't.  I've  only  a  room  in  a 
lodging-house.  I'd  be  afraid  of  something  happening 
to  him,  for  I'm  out  all  day.  I  offered  him  something 
f o  eat,  but  he  wouldn't  take  it  —  oh,  thank  you, 
ma'am,  I  didn't  spend  all  that.  I  guess  I'll  have  to 
go.  Does  he  come  from  down  East  ? " 

"  Yes,  he  is  French.  My  son  visited  his  house 
this  summer,  and  used  to  pet  him  a  good  deal." 

The  young  woman  cast  a  glance  of  veiled  admira 
tion  at  the  portrait.  "  And  the  little  one  ran  away 
to  find  him.  Quite  a  story.  He's  cute,  too,"  and, 
airily  patting  Narcisse's  curly  head,  she  took  her 
leave  of  Mrs.  Nimmo,  and  made  her  way  down-stairs. 
A  good  many  strange  happenings  came  into  her  daily 
life  in  this  large  city,  and  this  was  not  one  of  the 
strangest. 

Mrs.  Nimmo  sat  still  and  stared  at  Narcisse.  Rose 
had  probably  not  been  in  the  boat  with  him,  —  had 
probably  not  been  drowned.  He  had  apparently 
run  away  from  home,  and  the  first  thing  to  do  was 


242  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

to  communicate  with  his  mother,  who  would  be 
frantic  with  anxiety  about  him.  She  therefore  wrote 
out  a  telegram  to  Rose,  "  Your  boy  is  with  me,  and 
safe  and  well,"  and  ringing  for  Henry,  she  bade  him 
send  it  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Then  she  sank  again  into  profound  meditation. 
The  child  had  come  to  see  Vesper.  Had  she  better 
not  let  him  know  about  it  ?  If  she  applied  the  prin 
ciples  of  sound  reasoning  to  the  case,  she  certainly 
should  do  so.  It  might  also  be  politic.  Perhaps  it 
would  bring  him  home  to  her,  and,  sighing  heavily, 
she  wrote  another  telegram. 

In  the  meantime  Narcisse  did  not  awake.  He  lay 
still,  enjoying  the  heavy  slumber  of  exhaustion  and 
content.  He  was  in  the  house  of  his  beloved  Eng 
lishman  ;  all  would  now  be  well. 

He  did  not  know  that,  after  a  time,  his  trustful 
confidence  awoke  the  mother  spirit  in  the  woman 
watching  him.  The  child  for  a  time  was  wholly 
in  her  care.  No  other  person  in  this  vast  city  was 
interested  in  him.  No  one  cared  for  him.  A  strange, 
long-unknown  feeling. fluttered  about  her  breast,  and 
memories  of  her  past  youth  awoke.  She  had  also 
once  been  a  child.  She  had  been  lonely  and  ter 
rified,  and  suffered  childish  agonies  not  to  be  re 
vealed  until  years  of  maturity.  They  were  mostly 
agonies  about  trifles,  —  still,  she  had  suffered.  She 
pictured  to  herself  the  despair  and  anger  of  the  boy 


IN  SEARCH  OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN.  243 

upon  finding  that  Vesper  did  not  return  to  Sleeping 
Water  as  he  had  promised  to  do.  With  his  little 
white  face  in  a  snarl,  he  would  enter  the  boat  and 
set  himself  adrift,  to  face  sufferings  of  fright  and 
loneliness  of  which  in  his  petted  childhood  he  could 
have  had  no  conception.  And  yet  what  courage. 
She  could  see  that  he  was  exhausted,  yet  there  had 
been  no  whining,  no  complaining ;  he  had  attained 
his  object  and  he  was  satisfied.  He  was  really  like 
her  own  boy,  and,  with  a  proud,  motherly  smile,  she 
gazed  alternately  from  the  curly  head  on  the  carpet 
to  the  curly  one  in  the  portrait. 

The  external  resemblance,  too,  was  indeed  remark 
able,  and  now  the  thought  did  not  displease  her, 
although  it  had  invariably  done  so  in  Sleeping 
Water,  when  she  had  heard  it  frequently  and  nai'vely 
commented  on  by  the  Acadiens. 

Well,  the  child  had  thrown  himself  on  her  protec 
tion,  —  he  should  not  repent  it ;  and,  summoning  a 
housemaid,  she  sent  her  in  search  of  some  of  Ves 
per's  long-unused  clothing,  and  then  together  they 
slipped  the  disfiguring  girl's  dress  from  Narcisse's 
shapely  body,  and  put  on  him  a  long  white  night- 
robe. 

He  drov/sily  opened  his  eyes  as  they  were  lifting 
him  into  Vesper's  bed,  saw  that  the  photograph  was 
still  in  his  possession,  and  that  a  familiar  face  was 
bending  over  him,  then,  sweetly  murmuring  "Bon 


244  fiOSE   /?    CHARLITTE. 

soir"  (good  night),  he  again  slipped  into  the  land  of 
dreams. 

Several  times  during  the  night  Mrs.  Nimmo  stole 
into  her  son's  room,  and  drew  the  white  sheet  from 
the  black  head  half  buried  in  the  pillow.  Once  she 
kissed  him,  and  this  time  she  went  back  to  her  bed 
with  a  lighter  heart,  and  was  soon  asleep  herself. 

She  was  having  a  prolonged  nap  the  next  morning 
when  something  caused  her  suddenly  to  open  her  eyes. 
Just  for  an  instant  she  fancied  herself  a  happy  young 
wife  again,  her  husband  by  her  side,  their  adored  child 
paying  them  an  early  morning  call.  Then  the  dream 
was  over.  This  was  the  little  foreign  boy  who  was 
sitting  curled  up  on  the  foot  of  her  bed,  nibbling 
hungrily  at  a  handful  of  biscuits. 

"I  came,  madame,  because  those  others  I  do  not 
know,"  and  he  pointed  towards  the  floor,  to  indicate 
her  servants.  "  Has  your  son,  the  Englishman,  yet 
arrived  ? " 

"No,"  she  said,  gently. 

"Your  skin  is  white,"  said  Narcisse,  approvingly; 
"that  is  good  ;  I  do  not  like  that  man." 

"  But  you  have  seen  colored  people  on  the  Bay,  — 
you  must  not  dislike  Henry.      My  husband  brought 
him  here  as  a  boy  to  wait  on  my  son.     I  can  never 
give  him  up." 

"  He  is  amiable,"  said  Narcisse,  diplomatically. 
"  He  gave  me  these,"  and  he  extended  his  biscuits. 


IN  SEARCH   OF    THE   ENGLISHMAN.  245 

They  were  carrying  on  their  conversation  in 
French,  for  only  with  Vesper  did  Narcisse  care  to 
speak  English.  Perfectly  aware,  in  his  acute  child 
ish  intelligence,  that  he  was,  for  a  time,  entirely  de 
pendent  on  "madame,"  whom,  up  to  this,  he  had 
been  jealous  of,  and  had  positively  disliked,  he  was 
keeping  on  her  a  watchful  and  roguish  eye.  Mrs. 
Nimmo,  meanwhile,  was  interested  and  amused,  but 
would  make  no  overtures  to  him. 

"Is  your  bed  as  soft  as  mine,  madame?"  he  said, 
politely. 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  I  never  slept  in  that  one." 

Narcisse  drew  a  corner  of  her  silk  coverlet  over 
his  feet.  "  Narcisse  was  very  sick  yesterday." 

"I  do  not  wonder,"  said  his  hostess. 

"  Your  son  said  that  he  would  return,  but  he  did 
not." 

"  My  son  has  other  things  to  think  of,  little  boy." 

Mrs.  Nimmo's  manner  was  one  that  would  have 
checked  confidences  in  an  ordinary  child.  It  made 
Narcisse  more  eager  to  justify  himself.  "Why  does 
my  mother  cry  every  night  ? "  he  asked,  suddenly. 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  answered  Mrs.  Nimmo,  pee 
vishly. 

"  I  hear  a  noise  in  the  night,  like  trees  in  a  storm," 
said  Narcisse,  tragically,  and,  drawing  himself  up,  he 
fetched  a  tremendous  sigh  from  the  pit  of  his  little 
stomach  ;  "then  I  put  up  my  hand  so,"-  — and  leaning 


246  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

over,  he  placed  three  fingers  on  Mrs.  Nimmo's  eye 
lids,  — "  and  my  mother's  face  is  quite  wet,  like 
leaves  in  the  rain." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  did  not  reply,  and  he  went  on  with 
alarming  abruptness.  "  She  cries  for  the  English 
man.  I  also  cried,  and  one  night  I  got  out  of  bed. 
It  was  very  fine  ;  there  was  the  night  sun  in  the 
sky, — you  know,  madame,  there  is  a  night  sun  and 
a  day  sun  — 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  I  went  creeping,  creeping  to  the  wharf  like  a  fly 
on  a  tree.  I  was  not  afraid,  for  I  carried  your  son  in 
my  hand,  and  he  says  only  babies  cry  when  they  are 
alone." 

"  And  then,  —    "  said  Mrs.  Nimmo. 

"Oh,  the  beautiful  stone!"  cried  Narcisse,  his 
volatile  fancy  attracted  by  a  sparkling  ring  on  Mrs. 
Nimmo's  finger. 

She  sighed,  and  allowed  him  to  handle  it  for  a 
moment.  "I  have  just  put  it  on  again,  little  boy. 
I  have  been  in  mourning  for  the  last  two  years. 
Tell  me  about  your  going  to  the  boat." 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell,"  said  Narcisse;  "it  was 
a  very  little  boat." 

"  Whose  boat  was  it  ?  " 

"  The  blacksmith's." 

"  How  did  you  get  it  off  from  the  wharf  ? " 

"  Like    this,"    and    bending    over,    he    began    to 


IN  SEARCH  OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN.  247 

fumble  with  the  strings  of  her  nightcap,  tying  and 
untying  until  he  tickled  her  throat  and  made  her 
laugh  irresistibly  and  push  him  away.  "  There  was 
no  knife,"  he  said,  "or  I  would  have  cut  it." 

"  But  you  did  wrong  to  take  the  blacksmith's 
boat." 

Narcisse's  face  flushed,  yet  he  was  too  happy  to 
become  annoyed  with  her.  "  When  the  Englishman 
is  there,  I  am  good,  and  my  mother  does  not  cry. 
Let  him  go  back  with  me." 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Narcisse  was  plainly  embarrassed.  At  last  he 
said,  earnestly,  ."  Remain,  madame,  with  the  black 
man,  who  will  take  care  of  you.  When  does  the 
Englishman  arrive  ? " 

"I  do  not  know ;  run  away  now,  I  want  to 
dress." 

"  You  have  here  a  fine  bathroom,"  said  Narcisse, 
sauntering  across  the  room  to  an  open  door.  "  When 
am  I  to  have  my  bath  ?  " 

"  Does  your  mother  give  you  one  every  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madame,  at  night,  before  I  go  to  bed.  Do 
you  not  know  the  screen  in  our  room,  and  the  little 
tub,  and  the  dish  with  the  soap  that  smells  so  nice  ? 
I  must  scour  myself  hard  in  order  to  be  clean." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that.  I  will  send  a  tub  to 
your  room." 

"  But  I  like  this,  madame." 


248  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"Come,  come,"  she  said,  peremptorily,  "run  away. 
No  one  bathes  in  my  tub  but  myself." 

Narcisse  had  a  passion  for  dabbling  in  water,  and 
he  found  this  dainty  bathroom  irresistible.  "  I  hate 
you,  madame,"  he  said,  flushing  angrily,  and  stamping 
his  foot  at  her.  "I  hate  you." 

.Mrs.  Nimmo  looked  admiringly  past  the  child  at 
his  reflection  in  her  cheval  glass.  What  a  beauty  he 
was,  as  he  stood  furiously  regarding  her,  his  sweet, 
proud  face  convulsed,  his  little  body  trembling  inside 
his  white  gown  !  In  his  recklessness  he  had  forgotten 
to  be  polite  to  her,  and  she  liked  him  the  better  for  it. 

"You  are  a  naughty  boy,"  she  said,  indulgently. 
"  I  cannot  have  you  in  my  room  if  you  talk  like 
that." 

Without  a  word  Narcisse  went  to  her  dressing- 
table,  picked  up  his  precious  photograph  that  he  had 
left  propped  against  a  silver-backed  brush,  and  turned 
to  leave  her,  when  she  said,  curiously,  "  Why  did  you 
tear  that  picture  if  you  think  so  much  of  it  ? " 

Narcisse  immediately  fell  into  a  state  of  pitiable 
confusion,  and,  hanging  his  head,  remained  speech 
less. 

"  If  you  will  say  you  are  sorry  for  being  rude,  I 
will  give  you  another  one,"  she  said,  and  in  a  luxury 
of  delight  at  playing  with  this  little  soul,  she  raised 
herself  on  her  arm  and  held  out  a  hand  to  him. 

Narcisse  drew  back  his  lips  at  her  as  if  he  had 


IN  SEARCH   OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN.  249 

been  a  small  dog.  "Madame,"  he  faltered,  tapping 
his  teeth,  "  these  did  it,  but  I  stopped  them." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  and  a 
horrible  suspicion  entered  her  mind. 

"  Narcisse  was  hungry  —  in  the  boat  —  '  stam 
mered  the  boy.  "  He  nibbled  but  a  little  of  the 
picture.  He  could  not  bite  the  Englishman  long." 

Mrs.  Nimmo  shuddered.  She  had  never  been  hun 
gry  in  her  life.  "Come  here,  you  poor  child.  You 
shall  have  a  bath  in  my  room  as  soon  as  I  finish. 
Give  me  a  kiss." 

Narcisse' s  sensitive  spirit  immediately  became 
bathed  with  light.  "  Shall  I  kiss  you  as  your  son 
the  Englishman  kissed  my  mother?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  bravely,  and  she  held 
out  her  arms. 

"But  you  must  not  do  so,"  said  Narcisse,  drawing 
back.  "  You  must  now  cry,  and  hide  your  face  like 
this,"  —and  his  slender,  supple  fingers  guided  her 
head  into  a  distressed  position,  —  "  and  when  I  ap 
proach,  you  must  wave  your  hands." 

"Did  your  mother  do  that  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Nimmo, 
eagerly. 

"Yes,  —  and  your  son  lifted  her  hand  like  this," 
and  Narcisse  bent  a  graceful  knee  before  her. 

"  Did  she  not  throw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
cling  to  him  ? "  inquired  the  lady,  in  an  excess  of 
jealous  curiosity. 


K OSK    A    CHARLITTE. 

"  No,  she  ran  from  us  up  the  bank." 

"  Your  mother  is  a  wicked  woman  to  cause  my  son 
pain,"  said  Mrs.  Nimmo,  in  indignant  and  rapid 
French. 

"  My  mother  is  not  wicked  "  said  Narcisse,  vehe 
mently.  "  I  wish  to  see  her.  I  do  not  like  you." 

They  were  on  the  verge  of  another  disagreement, 
and  Mrs.  Nimmo,  with  a  soothing  caress,  hurried 
him  from  the  room.  What  a  curious  boy  he  was ! 
And  as  she  dressed  herself  she  sometimes  smiled  and 
sometimes  frowned  at  her  reflection  in  the  glass,  but 
the  light  in  her  eyes  was  always  a  happy  one,  and 
there  was  an  unusual  color  in  her  cheeks. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

AN    INTERRUPTED    MASS. 

"  Here  is  our  dearest  theme  where  skies  are  blue  and  brightest, 

To  sing  a  single  song  in  places  that  love  it  best ; 
Freighting  the  happy  breeze  when  snowy  clouds  are  lightest ; 
Making  a  song  to  cease  not  when  the  singer  is  dumb  in  rest." 

j.  F.  H. 

AWAY  up  the  Bay,  past  Sleeping  Water  and  Church 
Point,  past  historic  Piau's  Isle  and  Belliveau's  Cove 
and  the  lovely  Sissiboo  River,  past  Weymouth  and 
the  Barrens,  and  other  villages  stretched  out  along 
this  highroad,  between  Yarmouth  and  Digby,  is 
Bleury,  —  beautiful  Bleury,  which  is  the  final  out 
post  in  the  long-extended  line  of  Acadien  villages. 
Beyond  this,  the  Bay  —  what  there  is  of  it,  for  it 
soon  ends  this  side  of  Digby  —  is  English. 

But  beautiful  Bleury,  which  rejoices  in  a  high  bluff, 
a  richly  wooded  shore,  swelling  hills,  and  an  altogether 
firmer,  bolder  outlook  than  flat  Sleeping  Water,  is 
not  wholly  French.  Some  of  its  inhabitants  are 
English.  Here  the  English  tide  meets  the  French 
tide,  and,  swelling  up  the  Bay  and  back  in  the  woods, 

251 


252  A' OS E   A    CHARLITTE. 

they  overrun  the  land,  and  form  curious  contrasts 
and  results,  unknown  and  unfelt  in  the  purely  Aca- 
dien  districts  nearer  the  sea. 

In  Bleury  there  is  one  schoolhouse  common  to 
both  races,  and  on  a  certain  afternoon,  three  weeks 
after  little  Narcisse's  adventurous  voyage  in  search 
of  the  Englishman,  the  children  were  tumultuously 
pouring  out  from  it.  Instinctively  they  formed 
themselves  into  four  distinct  groups.  The  groups  at 
last  resolved  themselves  into  four  processions,  two 
going  up  the  road,  two  down.  The  French  children 
took  one  side  of  the  road,  the  English  the  other,  and 
each  procession  kept  severely  to  its  own  place. 

Heading  the  rows  of  English  children  who  went 
up  the  Bay  was  a  red-haired  girl  of  some  twelve  sum 
mers,  whose  fiery  head  gleamed  like  a  torch,  held  at 
the  head  of  the  procession.  As  tar  as  the  coloring 
of  her  skin  was  concerned,  and  the  exquisite  shading 
of  her  velvety  brown  eyes,  and  the  shape  of  her 
slightly  upturned  nose,  she  might  have  been  English. 
But  her  eager  gestures,  her  vivacity,  her  swiftness 
and  lightness  of  manner,  marked  her  as  a  stranger 
and  an  alien  among  the  English  children  by  whom 
she  was  surrounded. 

This  was  Bidiane  LeNoir,  Agapit's  little  renegade, 
and  just  now  she  was  highly  indignant  over  a  matter 
of  offended  pride.  A  French  girl  had  taken  a  place 
above  her  in  a  class,  and  also,  secure  in  the  fortress 


AN-  INTERRUPTP:D  MASS.  253 

of   tHe  schoolroom,  had   made   a  detestable  face  at 
her. 

"I  hate  them, — those  Frenchies,"  she  cried,  cast 
ing  a  glance  of  defiance  at  the  Acadien  children 
meekly  filing  along  beyond  her.  "  I  sha'n't  walk 
beside  'em.  Go  on,  you  -  — ,"  and  she  added  an 
offensive  epithet. 

The  dark-faced,  shy  Acadiens  trotted  soberly  on, 
swinging  their  books  and  lunch-baskets  in  their 
hands.  They  would  not  go  out  of  their  way  to  seek 
a  quarrel. 

"  Run,"  said  Bidiane,  imperiously. 

The  little  Acadiens  would  not  run,  they  preferred 
to  walk,  and  Bidiane  furiously  called  to  her  adherents, 
"Let's  sing  mass." 

This  was  the  deepest  insult  that  could  be  offered 
to  the  children  across  the  road.  Sometimes  in  their 
childish  quarrels  aprons  and  jackets  were  torn,  and 
faces  were  slapped,  but  no  bodily  injury  ever  equalled 
in  indignity  that  put  upon  the  Catholic  children  when 
their  religion  was  ridiculed. 

However,  they  did  not  retaliate,  but  their  faces 
became  gloomy,  and  they  immediately  quickened 
their  steps. 

"  Holler  louder,"  Bidiane  exhorted  her  followers, 
and  she  broke  into  a  howling  "Pax  vobiscum"  while 
a  boy  at  her  elbow  groaned,  "  Et  cum  spiritu  tuo" 
and  the  remainder  of  the  children  screamed  in  an 


254  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

irreverent'  chorus,  that  ran  all  up  and  down  the  scale, 
"  Gloria  tibi  Dominc." 

The  Acadien  children  fled  now,  some  of  them  with 
fingers  in  their  ears,  others  casting  bewildered  looks 
of  horror,  as  if  expecting  to  see  the  earth  open  and 
swallow  up  their  sacrilegious  tormentors,  who  stood 
shrieking  with  delight  at  the  success  of  their  efforts 
to  rid  themselves  of  their  undesired  companions. 

"  Shut  up,"  said  Bidiane,  suddenly,  and  at  once  the 
laughter  was  stilled.  There  was  a  stranger  in  their 
midst.  He  had  come  gliding  among  them  on  one  of 
the  bright  shining  wheels  that  went  up  and  down 
the  Bay  in  such  large  numbers.  Before  Bidiane  had 
spoken  he  had  dismounted,  and  his  quick  eye  was 
surveying  them  with  a  glance  like  lightning. 

The  children  stared  silently  at  him.  Ridicule  cuts 
sharply  into  the  heart  of  a  child,  and  a  sound  whip 
ping  inflicted  on  every  girl  and  boy  present  would 
not  have  impressed  on  them  the  burden  of  their 
iniquity  as  did  the  fine  sarcasm  and  disdainful 
amusement  with  which  this  handsome  stranger  re 
garded  them. 

One  by  one  they  dropped  away,  and  Bidiane  only 
remained  rooted  to  the  spot  by  some  magic  incom 
prehensible  to  her. 

"Your  name  is  Bidiane  LeNoir,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"  It  ain't,"  she  said,  doggedly  ;  "  it's  Biddy  Ann 
Black." 


AN  INTERRUPTED   MASS.  255 

"Really,  —  and  there  are  no  LeNoirs  about  here, 
nor  Corbineaus  ? " 

"  Down  the  Bay  are  LeNoirs  and  Corbineaus," 
said  the  little  girl,  defiantly  ;  then  she  burst  out  with 
a  question,  "  You  ain't  the  Englishman  from  Bos 
ton  ?" 

"  I  am." 

"  Gosh  !  "  she  said,  in  profound  astonishment ;  then 
she  lowered  her  eyes,  and  traced  a  serpent  in  the 
dust  with  her  great  toe.  All  up  and  down  the  Bay 
had  flashed  the  news  of  this  wonderful  stranger  who 
had  come  to  Sleeping  Water  in  quest  of  an  heir  or 
heiress  to  some  vast  fortune.  The  heir  had  been 
found  in  the  person  of  herself,  —  small,  red-haired 
Biddy  Ann  Black,  and  it  had  been  firmly  believed 
among  her  fellow  playmates  that  at  any  moment  the 
prince  might  appear  in  a  golden  chariot  and  whisk 
her  away  with  him  to  realms  of  bliss,  where  she 
would  live  in  a  gorgeous  palace  and  eat  cakes  and 
sweetmeats  all  day  long,  sailing  at  intervals  in  a  boat 
of  her  own  over  a  bay  of  transcendent  loveliness,  in 
which  she  would  catch  codfish  as  big  as  whales. 
This  story  had  been  believed  until  very  recently, 
when  it  had  somewhat  died  away  by  reason  of  the 
non-appearance  of  the  prince. 

Now  he  had  arrived,  and  Bidiane's  untrained  mind 
and  her  little  wild  beast  heart  were  in  a  tumult.  She 
felt  that  he  did  not  approve  of  her,  and  she  loved 


256  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

and  hated  him  in  a  breath.  He  was  smooth,  and 
dignified,  and  sleek,  like  a  priest.  He  was  dark,  too, 
like  the  French  people,  and  she  scowled  fiercely.  He 
would  see  that  her  cotton  gown  was  soiled  ;  why  had 
she  not  worn  a  clean  one  to-day,  and  also  put  on  her 
shoes  ?  Would  he  really  want  her  to  go  away  with 
him  ?  She  would  not  do  so ;  and  a  lump  arose  in 
her  throat,  and  with  a  passionate  emotion  that  she 
did  not  understand  she  gazed  across  the  Bay  towards 
the  purple  hills  of  Digby  Neck. 

Vesper,  perfectly  aware  of  what  was  passing  in  her 
mind,  waited  for  her  to  recover  herself.  "  I  would 
like  to  see  your  uncle  and  aunt,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"Will  you  take  me  to  them?" 

She  responded  by  a  gesture  in  the  affirmative,  and, 
still  with  eyes  bent  obstinately  on  the  ground,  led  the 
way  towards  a  low  brown  house  situated  in  a  hollow 
between  two  hills,  and  surrounded  by  a  grove  of  tall 
French  poplars,  whose  ancestors  had  been  nourished 
by  the  sweet  waters  of  the  Seine. 

Vesper's  time  was  limited,  and  he  was  anxious  to 
gain  the  confidence  of  the  little  maid,  if  possible,  but 
she  would  not  talk  to  him. 

"  Do  you  like  cocoanuts  ? "  he  said,  presently,  on 
seeing  in  the  distance  a  negro  approaching,  with  a 
load  of  this  foreign  fruit,  that  he  had  probably  ob 
tained  from  some  schooner. 

"You  bet,"  said  Bidiane,  briefly. 


AN  INTERRUPTED    MASS. 

Vesper  stopped  the  negro,  and  bought  as  many 
nuts  at  five  cents  apiece  as  he  and  Bidiane  could 
carry.  Then,  trying  to  make  her  smile  by  balancing 
one  on  the  saddle  of  his  wheel,  he  walked  slowly 
beside  her. 

Bidiane  solemnly  watched  him.  She  would  not 
talk,  she  would  not  smile,  but  she  cheerfully  dropped 
her  load  when  one  of  his  cocoanuts  rolled  in  the 
ditch,  and,  at  the  expense  of  a  scratched  face  from 
an  inquisitive  rose-bush  that  bent  over  to  see  what 
she  was  doing,  she  restored  it  to  him. 

"Your  cheek  is  bleeding,"  said  Vesper. 

"No  odds,"  she  remarked,  with  Indian-like  forti 
tude,  and  she  preceded  him  into  a  grassy  dooryard, 
that  was  pervaded  by  a  powerful  smell  of  frying 
doughnuts. 

Mirabelle  Marie,  her  fat,  good-natured  young  aunt, 
stood  in  the  kitchen  doorway  with  a  fork  in  her  hand, 
and  seeing  that  the  stranger  was  English,  she  beamed 
a  joyous,  hearty  welcome  on  him. 

"  Good  day,  sir  ;  you'll  stop  to  supper  ?  That's 
right.  Shove  your  wheel  ag'in  that  fence»  and  come 
right  in.  Biddy,  git  the  creamer  from  the  well  and 
give  the  genl'man  a  glass  of  milk.  You  won't  ?  — 
All  right,  sir,  walk  into  the  settin'-room.  What ! 
you'd  rather  set  under  the  trees  ?  All  right.  My 
man's  up  in  the  barn,  fussin'  with  a  sick  cow  that's 
lost  her  cud.  He's  puttin'  a  rind  of  bacon  on  her 


258  A'OSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

horns.  What  d'ye  say,  Biddy?"  —this  latter  in  an 
undertone  to  the  little  girl,  who  was  pulling  at  her 
dress.  "This  is  the  Englishman  from  Boston  — 
sakerj/!"  and,  dropping  her  fork,  she  wiped  her 
hands  on  her  dress  and  darted  out  to  offer  Vesper 
still  more  effusive  expressions  of  hospitality. 

He  smiled  amiably  on  her,  and  presently  she  re 
turned  to  the  kitchen,  silly  and  distracted  in  appear 
ance,  and  telling  Bidiane  that  she  felt  like  a  hen  with 
her  head  cut  off.  The  stranger  who  was  to  do  so 
much  for  them  had  come.  She  could  have  pros 
trated  herself  in  the  dust  before  him.  "  Scoot, 
Biddy,  scoot,"  she  exclaimed;  "  borry  meat  of  some 
kind.  Go  to  the  Maxwells  or  to  the  Whites.  Tell 
'em  he's  come,  and  we've  got  nothin'  but  fish  and 
salt  pork,  and  they  know  the  English  hate  that  like 
pizen.  And  git  a  junk  of  butter  with  only  a  mite  of 
salt  in  it.  Mine's  salted  heavy  for  the  market.  And 
skip  to  the  store  and  ask  'em  to  score  us  for  a  pound 
of  cheese  and  some  fancy  crackers." 

Bidiane  ran  away,  and,  as  she  ran,  her  ill  humor 
left  her,  and  she  felt  herself  to  be  a  very  important 
personage.  Vivaciously  and  swiftly  she  exclaimed, 
"  He's  come ! "  to  several  children  whom  she  met, 
and  with  a  keen  and  exquisite  sense  of  pleasure 
looked  back  to  see  them  standing  open-mouthed  in 
the  road,  impressed  in  a  most  gratifying  way  by  the 
news  communicated. 


AN  INTERRUPTED   MASS.  259 

In  the  meantime  Mirabelle  Marie  began  to  make 
frantic  and  ludicrous  preparations  to  set  a  superfine 
meal  before  the  stranger,  who  was  now  entitled  to  a 
double  share  of  honor.  In  her  extreme  haste  every 
thing  went  wrong.  She  upset  her  pot  of  lard  ;  the 
cat  and  dog  got  at  her  plate  of  doughnuts,  and  stole 
half  of  them  ;  the  hot  biscuits  that  she  hastily  mixed 
burnt  to  a  cinder,  and  the  jar  of  preserved  berries 
that  she  opened  proved  to  have  been  employing 
their  leisure  time  in  the  cellar  by  fermenting  most 
viciously. 

However,  she  did  not  lose  her  temper,  and,  as 
she  was  not  a  woman  to  be  cast  down  by  trifles, 
she  seated  herself  in  a  rocking-chair,  fanned  herself 
vigorously  with  her  apron,  and  laughed  spasmodi 
cally. 

Bidiane  found  her  there  on  her  return.  The  little 
girl  possessed  a  keener  sense  of  propriety  than  her 
careless  relative ;  she  was  also  more  moody  and  vari 
able,  and  immediately  falling  into  a  rage,  she  con 
veyed  some  plain  truths  to  Mirabelle  Marie,  in 
inelegant  language. 

The  woman  continued  to  laugh,  and  to  stare 
through  the  window  at  Vesper,  who  sat  motionless 
under  the  trees.  One  arm  was  thrown  over  the 
back  of  his  seat,  and  his  handsome  head  was  turned 
away  from  the  house. 

"Poor  calf,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie,  "he  looks  down 


260  A'OSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

the  Bay  ;  he  is  a  very  divil  for  good  looks.  Rose  a 
Charlitte  is  one  big  fool." 

"We  shall  have  only  slops  for  supper,"  said 
Bidiane,  in  a  fury,  and  swearing  under  her  breath 
at  her. 

Mirabelle  Marie  at  this  bestirred  herself,  and  tried 
to  evolve  a  meal  from  the  ruin  of  her  hopes,  and  the 
fresh  supply  of  food  that  her  niece  had  obtained. 

The  little  girl  meantime  found  a  clean  cloth,  and 
spread  it  on  the  table.  She  carefully  arranged  on  it 
their  heavy  white  dishes  and  substantial  knives  and 
spoons.  Then  she  blew  a  horn,  which  made  Claude 
a  Sucre,  her  strapping  great  uncle,  suddenly  loom 
against  the  horizon,  in  the  direction  of  the  barn. 

He  came  to  the  house,  and  was  about  to  ask  a 
question,  but  closed  his  mouth  when  he  saw  the 
stranger  in  the  yard. 

"  Go  change,"  said  Bidiane,  pouncing  upon  him. 

Claude  knew  what  she  meant,  and  glanced  re 
signedly  from  his  homespun  suit  to  her  resolved 
face.  There  was  no  appeal,  so  he  went  to  his  bed 
room  to  don  his  Sunday  garments.  He  had  not 
without  merit  gained  his  nickname  of  Sugar  Claude  ; 
for  he  was,  if  possible,  more  easy-going  than  his 
wife. 

Bidiane  next  attacked  her  aunt,  whose  face  was 
the  color  of  fire,  from  bending  over  the  stove.  "  Go 
put  on  clean  duds  ;  these  are  dirty." 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MASS.  26 1 

"  Go  yourself,  you  little  cat,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie, 
shaking  her  mountain  of  flesh  with  a  good-natured 
laugh. 

"I'm  going — I  ain't  as  dirty  as  you,  anyway  — 
and  take  off  those  sneaks." 

Mirabelle  Marie  stuck  out  one  of  the  flat  feet 
encased  in  rubber-soled  shoes.  "  My  land !  if  I  do, 
I'll  go  barefoot." 

Bidiane  subsided  and  went  to  the  door  to  look  for 
her  two  boy  cousins.  Where  were  they  ?  She 
shaded  her  eyes  with  her  two  brown  hands,  and 
her  gaze  swept  the  land  and  the  water.  Where 
were  those  boys  ?  Were  they  back  in  the  pas 
ture,  or  down  by  the  river,  or  playing  in  the  barn, 
or  out  in  the  boat  ?  A  small  schooner  beating  up 
the  Bay  caught  her  eye.  That  was  Johnny  Max 
well's  schooner.  She  knew  it  by  the  three-cornered 
patch  on  the  mainsail.  And  in  Captain  Johnny's 
pockets,  when  he  came  from  Boston,  were  always 
candy,  nuts,  and  raisins,  —  and  the  young  Maxwells 
were  of  a  generous  disposition,  and  the  whole  neigh 
borhood  knew  it.  Her  cousins  would  be  on  the 
wharf  below  the  house,  awaiting  his  arrival.  Well, 
they  should  come  to  supper  first ;  and,  like  a  bird  of 
prey,  she  swooped  down  the  road  upon  her  victims, 
and,  catching  them  firmly  by  the  shoulders,  marched 
them  up  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WITH    THE    WATERCROWS. 

"  Her  mouth  was  ever  agape, 
Her  ears  were  ever  ajar ; 
If  you  wanted  to  find  a  sweeter  fool, 
You  shouldn't  have  come  this  far." 

-  Old  Song. 

WHEN  the  meal  was  at  last  prepared,  and  the 
whole  family  were  assembled  in  the  sitting-room, 
where  the  table  had  been  drawn  from  the  kitchen, 
they  took  a  united  view  of  Vesper's  back ;  then 
Claude  a  Sucre  was  sent  to  escort  him  to  the 
house. 

With  a  rapturous  face  Mirabelle  Marie  surveyed 
the  steaming  dish  of  soupc  a  la  palate  (potato  soup), 
the  mound  of  buttered  toast,  the  wedge  of  tough 
fried  steak,  the  strips  of  raw  dried  codfish,  the  pink 
cake,  and  fancy  biscuits.  Surely  the  stranger  would 
be- impressed  by  the  magnificence  of  this  display,  and 
she  glanced  wonderingly  at  Bidiane,  whose  eyes  were 
lowered  to  the  floor.  The  little  girl  had  enjoyed  ad 
vantages  superior  to  her  own,  in  that  she  mingled 

262 


WITH   THE    WATERCROWS.  26$ 

freely  in  English  society,  where  she  herself  —  Mira- 
belle  Marie  —  was  strangely  shunned.  Could  it  be 
that  she  was  ashamed  of  this  board  ?  Certainly  she 
could  never  have  seen  anything  much  grander ;  and, 
swelling  with  gratified  pride  and  ambition,  the  mis 
tress  of  the  household  seated  herself  behind  her 
portly  teapot,  from  which  vantage-ground  she 
beamed,  huge  and  silly,  like  a  full-grown  moon 
upon  the  occupants  of  the  table. 

Her  guest  was  not  hungry,  apparently,  for  he 
scarcely  touched  the  dishes  that  she  pressed  upon 
him.  However,  he  responded  so  gracefully  and 
with  such  well-bred  composure  to  her  exhortations 
that  he  should  eat  his  fill,  for  there  was  more  in  the 
cellar,  that  she  was  far  from  resenting  his  lack  of 
appetite.  He  was  certainly  a  "boss  young  man;" 
and  as  she  sat,  delicious  visions  swam  through  her 
brain  of  new  implements  for  the  farm,  a  new  barn, 
perhaps,  new  furniture  for  the  house,  with  possibly  an 
organ,  a  spick  and  span  wagon,  and  a  horse,  or  even 
a  pair,  and  the  eventual  establishment  of  her  two 
sons  in  Boston,  —  the  El  Dorado  of  her  imagination, 
—  where  they  would  become  prosperous  merchants, 
and  make  heaps  of  gold  for  their  mother  to  spend. 

In  her  excitement  she  began  to  put  her  food  in  her 
mouth  with  both  hands,  until  reminded  that  she  was 
flying  in  the  face  of  English  etiquette  by  a  vigorous 
kick  administered  under  the  table  by  Bidiane. 


264  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Vesper,  with  an  effort,  called  back  his  painful  wan 
dering  thoughts,  which  had  indeed  gone  down  the 
Bay,  and  concentrated  them  upon  this  picturesquely 
untidy  family.  This  was  an  entirely  different  estab 
lishment  from  that  of  the  Sleeping  Water  Inn.  For 
tunately  there  was  no  grossness,  no  clownishness  of 
behavior,  which  would  have  irreparably  offended 
his  fastidious  taste.  They  were  simply  uncultured, 
scrambling,  and  even  interesting  with  the  background 
of  this  old  homestead,  which  was  one  of  the  most  an 
cient  that  he  had  seen  on  the  Bay,  and  which  had 
probably  been  built  by  some  of  the  early  settlers. 

While  he  was  quietly  making  his  observations,  the 
family  finished  their  meal,  and  seeing  that  they  were 
waiting  for  him  to  give  the  signal  for  leaving  the 
table,  he  politely  rose  and  stepped  behind  his  chair. 

Mirabelle  Marie  scurried  to  her  feet  and  pushed 
the  table  against  the  wall.  Then  the  whole  family 
sat  down  in  a  semicircle  facing  a  large  open  fireplace 
heaped  high  with  the  accumulated  rubbish  of  the 
summer,  and  breathlessly  waited  for  the  stranger  to 
tell  them  of  his  place  of  birth,  the  amount  of  his  for 
tune,  his  future  expectations  and  hopes,  his  intentions 
with  regard  to  Bidiane,  and  of  various  and  sundry 
other  matters  that  might  come  in  during  the  course 
of  their  conversation. 

Vesper,  with  his  usual  objection  to  having  any 
course  of  action  mapped  out  for  him,  sat  gazing  im- 


WITH    THE    WATERCROWS.  26$ 

perturbably  at  them.  He  was  really  sorry  for  Mira- 
belle  Marie,  who  was  plainly  bursting  with  eagerness. 
Her  husband  was  more  reserved,  yet  he,  too,  was 
suffering  from  suppressed  curiosity,  and  timidly  and 
wistfully  handled  his  pipe,  that  he  longed  to  and  yet 
did  not  dare  to  smoke. 

His  two  small  boys  sat  dangling  their  legs  from 
seats  that  were  uncomfortably  high  for  them.  They 
were  typical  Acadien  children,  —  shy,  elusive,  and 
retreating  within  themselves  in  the  presence  of 
strangers ;  and  if,  by  chance,  Vesper  caught  a 
stealthy  glance  from  one  of  them,  the  little  fellow 
immediately  averted  his  glossy  head,  as  if  afraid  that 
the  calm  eyes  of  the  stranger  might  lay  bare  the 
inmost  secrets  of  his  youthful  soul. 

Bidiane  was  the  most  interesting  of  the  group. 
She  was  evidently  a  born  manager  and  the  ruling 
spirit  in  the  household,  for  he  could  see  that  they  all 
stood  in  awe  of  her.  She  must  possess  some  force  of 
will  to  enable  her  to  subdue  her  natural  eagerness  and 
vivacity,  so  as  to  appear  sober  and  reserved.  His 
presence  was  evidently  a  constraint  to  the  little  red- 
haired  witch,  and  he  could  scarcely  have  understood 
her  character,  if  Agapit  had  not  supplied  him  with  a 
key  to  it. 

Young  as  she  was,  she  acutely  appreciated  the 
racial  differences  about  her.  There  were  two  worlds 
in  her  mind,  —  French  and  English.  The  careless 


266  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

predilections  of  her  aunt  had  become  fierce  preju 
dices  with  her,  and,  at  present,  although  she  was 
proud  to  have  an  Englishman  under  their  roof,  she 
was  at  the  same  time  tortured  by  the  contrast  that 
she  knew  he  must  find  between  the  humble  home  of 
her  relatives  and  the  more  prosperous  surroundings 
of  the  English  people  with  whom  he  was  accustomed 
to  mingle. 

"  She  is  a  clever  little  imp,"  Agapit  had  said, 
"and  wise  beyond  her  years." 

Vesper,  when  his  unobtrusive  examination  of  her 
small  resolved  face  was  over,  glanced  about  the  low, 
square  room  in  which  they  sat.  The  sun  was  just 
leaving  it.  The  family  would  soon  be  thinking  of 
going  to  bed.  All  around  the  room  were  other  rooms 
evidently  used  as  sleeping  apartments,  for  through  a 
half-open  door  he  saw  an  unmade  bed,  and  he  knew, 
from  the  construction  of  the  house,  that  there  was  no 
upper  story. 

After  a  time  the  silence  became  oppressive,  and 
Mirabelle  Marie,  seeing  that  the  stranger  would  not 
entertain  her,  set  herself  to  the  task  of  entertaining 
him,  and  with  an  ingratiating  and  insinuating  smile 
informed  him  that  the  biggest  liar  on  the  Bay  lived 
in  Bleury. 

"His  name's  Bill,"  she  said,  "  Blowin'  Bill  Duck- 
foot,  an'  the  boys  git  'round  him  an'  say,  '  Give  us  a 
yarn.'  He  says, '  Well,  give  me  a  chaw  of  'baccy,'  then 


WITH    THE    WATEKCROWS.  267 

he  starts  off.  '  Onct  when  I  went  to  sea  '  —  he's 
never  bin  off  the  Bay,  you  know  —  '  it  blowed  as  hard 
as  it  could  for  ten  days.  Then  it  blowed  ten  times 
harder.  We  had  to  lash  the  cook  to  the  mast.' 
1  What  did  you  do  when  you  wanted  grub  ? '  says  the 
boys.  '  Oh,  we  unlashed  him  for  awhile,'  says  Bill. 
'  One  day  the  schooner  cracked  from  stern  to  stem. 
Cap'en  and  men  begun  to  holler  and  says  we  was 
goin'  to  the  bottom.'  '  Cheer  up,'  says  Bill,  '  I'll  fix  a 
way.'  So  he  got  'em  to  lash  the  anchor  chains 
'roun'  the  schooner,  an'  that  hold  'em  together  till 
they  got  to  Boston,  and  there  was  nothin'  too  good 
for  Bill.  It  was  cousin  Duckfoot,  an'  brother  Duck- 
foot,  and  good  frien'  Duckfoot,  and  lots  of  treatin'." 

Vesper  in  suppressed  astonishment  surveyed  Mira- 
belle  Marie,  who,  at  the  conclusion  of  her  story,  burst 
into  a  fit  of  such  hearty  laughter  that  she  seemed  to 
be  threatened  there  and  then  with  a  fit  of  apoplexy. 
Her  face  grew  purple,  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks,  and 
through  eyes  that  had  become  mere  slits  in  her  face 
she  looked  at  Claude,  who  too  was  convulsed  with 
amusement,  at  her  two  small  boys,  who  giggled  behind 
their  hands,  and  at  Bidiane,  who  only  smiled  sarcas 
tically. 

Vesper  at  once  summoned  an  expression  of  inter 
est  to  his  face,  and  Mirabelle  Marie,  encouraged  by  it, 
caught  her  breath  with  an  explosive  sound,  wiped  the 
tears  from  her  eyes,  and  at  once  continued.  "  Here's 


268  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

another  daisy  one.  '  Onct,'  says  Bill,  '  all  ban's  was 
lost  'cept  me  an'  a  nigger.  I  went  to  the  stern  as 
cap'en,  and  he  to  the  bow  as  deck-ban'.  A  big  wave 
struck  the  schooner,  and  when  we  righted,  wasn't  the 
nigger  at  stern,  as  cap'en,  an'  I  was  at  bow  as  deck- 
ban'  ! '  " 

While  Vesper  was  waiting  for  the  conclusion  of  the 
story,  a  burst  of  joyous  cachinnation  assured  him  that 
it  had  already  come.  Mirabelle  Marie  was  again  rock 
ing  herself  to  and  fro  in  immoderate  delight,  her 
head  at  each  dip  forward  nearly  touching  her  knees, 
while  her  husband  was  slapping  his  side  vigorously. 

Vesper  laughed  himself.  Truly  there  were  many 
different  orders  of  mind  in  the  universe.  He  saw 
nothing  amusing  in  the  reported  exploits  of  the  liar 
Duckfoot.  They  also  would  not  have  brought  a  smile 
to  the  face  of  his  beautiful  Rose,  yet  the  Corbineaus, 
or  Watercrows,  as  they  translated  their  name  in  order 
to  make  themselves  appear  English,  found  these 
stories  irresistibly  comical.  It  was  a  blessing  for 
them  that  they  did  so,  otherwise  the  whole  realm  of 
humor  might  be  lost  to  them  ;  and  he  was  going  off 
in  a  dreamy  speculation  with  regard  to  their  other 
mental  proclivities,  when  he  was  roused  by  another 
story  from  his  hostess. 

"  Duckfoot  is  a  mason  by  trade,  an'  onct  he  built  a 
chimbley  for  a  woman.  '  Make  a  good  draught,'  says 
she.  '  You  bet,'  says  he,  an'  he  built  his  chimbley  an' 


WITH   THE    WATERCROWS.  269 

runs  away  ;  as  he  runs  he  looks  back,  an'  there  was 
the  woman's  duds  that  was  hangin'  by  the  fire  goin' 
up  the  chimbley.  He  had  built  such  a  draught  that 
nothin'  could  stay  in  the  kitchen,  so  she  had  to  go 
down  on  her  knees  an'  beg  him  to  change  it." 

"  To  beg  him  to  change  it,"  vociferated  Claude,  and 
he  soundly  smacked  his  unresisting  knee.  "  Oh, 
Lord,  'ow  funny  !  "  and  he  roared  with  laughter  so 
stimulating  that  he  forgot  his  fear  of  Vesper  and  Bidi- 
ane,  and,  boldly  lighting  his  pipe,  put  it  between  his 
lips. 

Mirabelle  Marie,  whose  flow  of  eloquence  it  was 
difficult  to  check,  related  several  other  tales  of  Duck- 
foot  Bill.  Many  times,  before  the  railway  in  this 
township  of  Clare  had  been  built,  he  had  told  them  of 
his  uncle,  who  had,  he  said,  a  magnificent  residence 
in  Louisiana,  with  a  park  full  of  valuable  animals  called 
skunks.  These  animals  he  had  never  fully  described, 
and  they  were  consequently  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of 
admiration  and  mystery,  until  a  horde  of  them  came 
with  the  railroad  to  the  Bay,  when  the  credulous 
Acadiens  learned  for  themselves  what  they  really 
were. 

During  the  recital  of  this  tale,  Bidiane's  face  went 
from  disapproval  to  disgust,  and  at  last,  diving  under 
the  table,  she  seized  a  basket  and  went  to  work  vigor 
ously,  as  if  the  occupation  of  her  fingers  would  ease 
the  perturbation  of  her  mind. 


2/O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Vesper  watched  her  closely.  She  was  picking  out 
the  threads  of  old  cotton  and  woollen  garments  that 
had  been  cut  into  small  pieces.  These  threads  would 
be  washed,  laid  out  on  the  grass  to  dry,  and  then  be 
carded,  and  spun,  and  woven  over  again,  according  to 
a  thrifty  custom  of  the  Acadiens,  and  made  into 
bedcovers,  stockings,  and  cloth.  The  child  must 
possess  some  industry,  for  this  work  —  "  pickings,"  as 
it  was  called  —  was  usually  done  by  the  women.  In 
brooding  silence  the  little  girl  listened  to  Mirabelle 
Marie's  final  tale  of  Duckfoot  Bill,  whose  wife  called 
out  to  him,  one  day,  from  the  yard,  that  there  was  a 
flock  of  wild  geese  passing  over  the  house.  Without 
troubling  to  go  out,  he  merely  discharged  his  gun  up 
the  chimney  beside  which  he  sat,  and  the  ramrod,  care 
lessly  being  left  in,  killed  a  certain  number  of  geese. 

"  How  many  do  you  guess  that  ramrod  run 
through  ? " 

Vesper  good-naturedly  guessed  two. 

"No,  —  seven,"  she  shrieked;  "they  was  strung 
in  a  row  like  dried  apples,"  and  she  burst  into  fresh 
peals  of  laughter,  until  suddenly  plunged  into  the 
calmness  of  despair  by  a  few  words  from  Bidiane, 
who  leaned  over  and  whispered  angrily  to  her. 

Mirabelle  Marie  trembled,  and  gazed  at  the 
stranger.  Was  it  true,  —  did  he  wish  to  commend 
her  to  a  less  pleasant  place  than  Bleury  for  teasing 
him  with  these  entrancing  stories  ? 


WITH   THE    WATERCROWS.  2/1 

She  could  gather  nothing  from  his  face  ;  so  she 
entered  tremulously  into  a  new  subject  of  conver 
sation,  and,  pointing  to  Claude's  long  legs,  assured 
him  that  his  heavy  woollen  stockings  had  been  made 
entirely  by  Bidiane.  "She's  smart, — as  smart  as 
a  steel  trap,"  said  the  aunt.  "She  can  catch  the 
sheeps,  hold  'em  down,  shear  the  wool,  an'  spin 
it." 

Bidiane  immediately  pushed  her  basket  under 
the  table  with  so  fiery  and  resentful  a  glance  that 
the  unfortunate  Mirabelle  Marie  relapsed  into  si 
lence. 

"Have  you  ever  gone  to  sea?"  asked  Vesper,  of 
the  silently  smoking  Claude. 

"  Yessir,  we  mos'  all  goes  to  sea  when  we's 
young." 

"  Onct  he  was  wrecked,"  interrupted  his  wife. 

"  Yessir,  I  was.  Off  Arichat  we  got  on  a  ledge. 
We  thump  up  an'  down.  We  was  all  on  deck  but 
the  cook.  The  cap'en  sends  me  to  the  galley  for 
'im.  'E  come  up,  we  go  ashore,  an'  the  schooner 
go  to  pieces." 

"Tell  him  about  the  mouse,"  said  Bidiane,  ab 
ruptly. 

"  The  mouse  ?  —  oh,  yess,  when  I  go  for  the  cook 
I  find  'im  in  the  corner,  a  big  stick  in  his  'and.  I 
dunno  'ow  'e  stan'.  'Is  stove  was  upside  down,  an' 
there  was  an  awful  wariwarie  "  (racket).  "  'E  seem 


2/2  XOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

not  to  think  of  danger.  ''1st,'  says  'e.  'Don'  mek 
a  noise,  —  I  wan'  to  kill  that  mouse.' ' 

Vesper  laughed  at  this,  and  Mirabelle  Marie's  face 
cleared. 

"Tell  the  Englishman  who  was  the  cap'en  of 
yous,"  she  said,  impulsively,  and  she  reso 
lutely  turned  her  back  on  Bidiane's  terrific 
frown. 

"Well,  'e  was  smart,"  said  Claude,  apologetically. 
"  'E  always  get  on  though  'e  not  know  much.  One 
day  when  'e  fus'  wen'  to  sea  'is  wife  says,  '  All  the 
cap'ens'  wives  talk  about  their  charts,  an'  you  ain't 
gut  none.  I  buy  one.'  So  she  wen'  to  Yarmouth, 
an'  buy  'im  a  chart.  She  also  buy  some  of  that 
shiny  cloth  for  kitchen  table  w'at  'as  blue  scrawly 
lines  like  writin'  on  it.  The  cap'en  leave  the  nex' 
mornin'  before  she  was  up,  an'  'e  takes  with  'im  the 
oilcloth  instid  of  the  chart,  an'  'e  'angs  it  in  'is 
cabin  ;  'e  didn't  know  no  differ.  'E  never  could 
write,  — -  that  man.  He  mek  always  a  pictur  of  'is 
men  when  'e  wan'  to  write  the  fish  they  ketch. 
But  'e  was  smart,  very  smart.  'E  mek  also  money. 
Onct  'e  was  passenger  on  a  schooner  that  smacks 
ag'in  a  steamer  in  a  fog.  All  'an's  scuttle,  'cause 
that  mek  a  big  scare.  They  forgit  'im.  'E  wake  ; 
'e  find  'imself  lonely.  Was  'e  frightful  ?  Oh,  no ;  'e 
can't  work  sails,  but  'e  steer  that  schooner  to  Boston, 
an'  claim  salvage." 


WITH    THE    WATERCROWS.  273 

"  Tell  also  the  name  of  the  cap'en,"  said  Mirabelle 
Marie. 

Claude  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  would  not 
speak. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  asked  Vesper. 

"  It  was  Crispin,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie,  solemnly. 
"Crispin,  the  brother  of  Charlitte." 

Vesper  calmly  took  a  cigarette  from  his  pocket, 
and  lighted  it. 

"  It  is  a  nice  place  down  the  Bay,"  said  Mirabelle 
Marie,  uneasily. 

"Very  nice,"  responded  her  guest. 

"  Rose  a  Charlitte  has  a  good  name,"  she  con 
tinued,  "a  very  good  name." 

Vesper  fingered  his  cigarette,  and  gazed  blankly 
at  her. 

"  They  speak  good  French  there,"  she  said. 

Her  husband  and  Bidiane  stared  at  her.  They 
had  never  heard  such  a  sentiment  from  her  lips 
before.  However,  they  were  accustomed  to  her 
ways,  and  they  soon  got  over  their  surprise. 

"  Do  you  not  speak  French  ? "  asked  Vesper. 

Mrs.  Watercrow  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  It  is 
no  good.  We  are  all  English  about  here.  How 
can  one  be  French  ?  Way  back,  when  we  went  to 
mass,  the  priest  was  always  botherin'  — '  Talk  French 
to  your  young  ones.  Don't  let  them  forgit  the  way 
the  old  people  talked.'  One  day  I  come  home  and 


274  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

says  to  my  biggest  boy,  '  Va  ramasser  des  faopeaux ' ' 
(Go  pick  up  some  chips).    "He  snarl  at  me,  '  Do  you 
mean  potatoes  ? '     He  didn't  like  it." 

"  Did  he  not  understand  you  ?  "  asked  Vesper. 

"  Naw,  naw,"  said  Claude,  bitterly.  "We  'ave 
French  nebbors,  but  our  young  ones  don'  play  with. 
They  don'  know  French.  My  wife  she  speak  it 
w'en  we  don'  want  'em  to  know  w'at  we  say." 

"You  always  like  French,"  said  his  wife,  con 
temptuously.  "  I  guess  you  gut  somethin'  French 
inside  you." 

Claude,  for  some  reason  or  other,  probably  because, 
usually  without  an  advocate,  he  now  knew  that  he 
had  one  in  Vesper,  was  roused  to  unusual  animation. 
He  snatched  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  said, 
warmly,  "  It's  me  'art  that's  French,  an'  sometimes 
it's  sore.  I  speak  not  much,  but  I  think  often  we 
are  fools.  Do  the  Eenglish  like  us  ?  No,  only  a 
few  come  with  us  ;  they  grin  'cause  we  put  off  our 
French  speakin'  like  an  ole  coat.  A  man  say  to  me 
one  day,  '  You  'ave  nothin'.  You  do  not  go  to  mass, 
you  preten'  to  be  Protestan',  w'en  you  not  brought 
up  to  it.  You  big  fool,  you  don'  know  w'at  it  is. 
If  you  was  dyin'  to-morrer  you'd  sen'  for  the 
priest'  " 

Mirabelle  Marie  opened  her  eyes  wide  at  her  hus 
band's  eloquence. 

He  was  not  yet  through.    "  An'  our  children,  they 


WITH   THE    WATERCROWS.  2/5 

are  silly  with  it.  They  donno'  w'at  they  are.  All 
day  Sunday  they  play ;  sometimes  they  say  cuss 
words.  I  say,  '  Do  it  not,  'an'  they  ast  me  w'y.  I 
cannot  tell.  They  are  not  French,  they  are  not 
Eenglish.  They  'ave  no  religion.  I  donno'  w'ere 
they  go  w'en  they  die." 

Mirabelle  Marie  boldly  determined  to  make  confi 
dences  to  the  Englishman  in  her  turn. 

"  The  English  have  loads  of  money.  I  wish  I 
could  go  to  Boston.  I  could  make  it  there,  —  yes, 
lots  of  it." 

Claude  was  not  to  be  put  down.  "  I  like  our  own 
langwidge,  oh,  yes,"  he  said,  sadly.  "  W'en  I  was 
a  leetle  boy  I  wen'  to  school.  All  was  Eenglish. 
They  put  in  my  'and  an  Eenglish  book.  I'd  lef  my 
mother,  I  was  stoopid.  I  thought  all  the  children's 
teeth  was  broke,  'cause  they  spoke  so  strange. 
Never  will  I  forgit  my  firs'  day  in  school.  W'y  do 
they  teach  Eenglish  to  the  French  ?  The  words  was 
like  fish  'ooks  in  my  flesh." 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  send  that  little  girl 
down  the  Bay  to  a  French  convent  ? "  said  Vesper, 
waving  his  cigarette  towards  Bidiane. 

"We  can't  pay  that,"  said  Mirabtlle  Marie, 
eagerly. 

"  But  I  would." 

While  she  was  nodding  her  head  complacently 
over  this,  the  first  of  the  favors  to  be  showered  on 


276  HOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

them,  Claude  said,  slowly,  "  Down  the  Bay  is  like  a 
bad,  bad  place  to  my  children  ;  they  do  not  wish  to 
go,  not  even  to  ride.  They  go  towards  Digby. 
Biddy  Ann  would  not  go  to  the  convent,  —  would 
she,  Biddy?" 

The  little  girl  threw  up  her  head  angrily.  "  I 
hate  Frenchtown,  and  that  black  spider,  Agapit 
LeNoir." 

Claude's  face  darkened,  and  his  wife  chuckled. 
Surely  now  there  would  be  nothing  left  for  the 
Englishman  to  do  but  to  transplant  them  all  to 
Boston. 

"  Would  you  not  go  ? "  asked  Vesper,  addressing 
Bidiane. 

"  Not  a  damn  step,"  said  the  girl,  in  a  fury,  and, 
violently  pushing  back  her  chair,  she  rushed  from  the 
room.  If  this  young  man  wished  to  make  a  French 
girl  of  her,  he  might  go  on  his  way.  She  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him.  And  with  a  rebellious  and 
angry  heart  at  this  traitor  to  his  race,  as  she  regarded 
him,  she  climbed  up  a  ladder  in  the  kitchen  that  led 
to  a  sure  hiding-place  under  the  roof. 

Her  aunt  clutched  her  head  in  despair.  Bidiane 
would  ruin  everything.  "  She's  all  eaten  up  to  go  to 
Boston,"  she  gasped. 

"  I  am  not  a  rich  man,"  said  Vesper,  coldly.  "  I 
don't  feel  able  at  present  to  propose  anything  further 
for  her  than  to  give  her  a  year  or  two  in  a  convent." 


WITH    THE    WATERCROWS. 

Mirabelle  Marie  gaped  speechlessly  at  him.  In  one 
crashing  ruin  her  new  barn,  and  farming  implements, 
the  wagon  and  horses,  and  trunks  full  of  fine  clothes 
fell  into  the  abyss  of  lost  hopes.  The  prince  had  not 
the  long  purse  that  she  supposed  he  would  have.  And 
yet  such  was  her  good-nature  that,  when  she  recov 
ered  from  the  shock,  she  regarded  him  just  as  kindly 
and  as  admiringly  as  before,  and  if  he  had  been  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  reduced  to  want  she  would  have 
been  the  first  to  relieve  him,  and  give  what  aid  she 
could.  Nothing  could  destroy  her  deep-rooted  and 
extravagant  admiration  for  the  English  race. 

Her  fascinated  glance  followed  him  as  he  got  up 
and  sauntered  to  the  open  door. 

"You'll  stop  all  night?"  she  said,  hospitably, 
shuffling  after  him.  "  We  have  one  good  bed,  with 
many  feathers." 

He  did  not  hear  her,  for  in  a  state  of  extreme 
boredom,  and  slight  absent  -  mindedness,  he  had 
stepped  out  under  the  poplars. 

"  Better  leave  'im  alone,  I  guess,"  said  Claude ; 
then  he  slipped  off  his  coat.  "I'll  go  milk." 

"  An'  I'll  make  up  the  bed,"  said  his  wife ;  and 
taking  the  hairpins  out  of  the  switch  that  Bidiane 
had  made  her  attach  to  her  own  thick  lump  of  hair, 
she  laid  it  on  the  shelf  by  the  clock,  and  allowed  her 
own  brown  wave  to  stream  freely  down  her  back. 
Then  she  unfastened  her  corsets,  which  she  did  not 


2/8  XOS£  A    CHARLITTE. 

dare  to  take  off,  as  no  woman  in  Bleury  who  did 
not  wear  that  article  of  dress  tightly  enfolding  her 
chest  and  waist  was  considered  to  have  reached 
the  acme  of  respectability.  However,  she  could  for 
a  time  allow  them  to  gape  slightly  apart,  and  having 
by  this  proceeding  added  much  to  her  comfort,  she 
entered  one  of  the  small  rooms  near  by. 

Vesper  meanwhile  walked  slowly  towards  the  gate, 
while  Bidiane  watched  him  through  a  loophole  in  the 
roof.  His  body  only  was  in  Bleury ;  his  heart  was 
in  Sleeping  Water.  Step  by  step  he  was  following 
Rose  about  her  daily  duties.  He  knew  just  at  what 
time  of  day  her  slender  feet  carried  her  to  the  stable, 
to  the  duck-yard,  to  the  hen-house.  He  knew  the 
exact  hour  that  she  entered  her  kitchen  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  went  from  it  to  the  pantry.  He  could  see 
her  beautiful  face  at  the  cool  pantry  window,  as  she 
stood  mixing  various  dishes,  and  occasionally  glancing 
at  the  passers-by  on  the  road.  Sometimes  she  sang 
gently  to  herself,  "  Rose  of  the  cross,  thou  mystic 
flower,"  or  "  Dear  angel  ever  at  my  side,"  or  some 
of  the  Latin  hymns  to  the  Virgin. 

At  this  present  moment  her  tasks  would  all  be 
done.  If  there  were  guests  who  desired  her  presence, 
she  might  be  seated  with  them  in  the  little  parlor. 
If  there  were  none,  she  was  probably  alone  in  her 
room.  Of  what  was  she  thinking  ?  The  blood 
surged  to  his  face,  there  was  a  beating  in  his  ears, 


WITH   THE    WATERCROWS.  2/9 

and  he  raised  his  suffering  glance  to  the  sky.  "  O 
God !  now  I  know  why  I  suffered  when  my  father 
died.  It  was  to  prepare  me  for  this." 

Then  his  mind  went  back  to  Rose.  Had  she  suc 
ceeded  in  driving  his  image  from  her  pure  mind  and 
imagination  ?  Alas  !  he  feared  not,  —  he  would  like 
to  know.  He  had  heard  nothing  of  her  since  leaving 
Sleeping  Water.  Agapit  had  written  once,  but  he 
had  not  mentioned  her. 

This  inaction  was  horrible,  —  this  place  wearied 
him  insufferably.  He  glanced  towards  his  wheel,  and 
a  sentence  from  one  of  Agapit' s  books  came  into  his 
mind.  It  contained  the  advice  of  an  old  monk  to  a 
penitent,  "  My  son,  when  in  grievous  temptation  from 
trouble  of  the  mind,  engage  violently  in  some  exer 
cise  of  the  body." 

He  was  a  swift  rider,  and  there  was  no  need  for 
him  to  linger  longer  here.  These  people  were  pain 
fully  subservient.  If  at  any  time  anything  came 
into  his  mind  to  be  done  for  the  little  girl,  they  would 
readily  agree  to  it ;  that  is,  if  the  small  tigress  con 
curred  ;  at  present  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  for 
her. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  his  bicycle  and  went  towards 
the  house  again.  There  was  no  one  to  be  seen,  so 
he  hurried  up  to  the  rickety  barn  where  Claude  sat 
on  a  milking-stool,  trying  to  keep  his  long  legs  out 
of  the  way  of  a  frisky  cow. 


28O  XOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

The  Frenchman  was  overcome  with  stolid  dismay 
when  Vesper  briefly  bade  him  good-by,  and  going 
to  the  barn  door,  he  stared  regretfully  after  him. 

Mirabelle  Marie,  in  blissful  unconsciousness  of  the 
sudden  departure,  went  on  with  her  bed-making,  but 
Bidiane,  through  the  crack  in  the  roof,  saw  him  go, 
and  in  childish  contradiction  of  spirit  shed  tears  of 
anger  and  disappointment  at  the  sight. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

A    SUPREME    ADIEU. 

"  How  reads  the  riddle  of  our  life, 
That  mortals  seek  immortal  joy, 
That  pleasures  here  so  quickly  cloy, 
And  hearts  are  e'en  with  yearnings  rife  ? 
That  love's  bright  morn  no  midday  knows, 
And  darkness  comes  ere  even's  close, 
And  fondest  hopes  bear  seeds  of  strife. 

"  Let  fools  deride  ;   Faith's  God-girt  breast 
Their  puny  shafts  can  turn  aside, 
And  mock  with  these  their  sin-born  pride. 

Our  souls  were  made  for  God  the  Best ; 
'Tis  He  alone  can  satisfy 
Their  every  want,  can  still  each  cry ; 

In  Him  alone  shall  they  find  rest." 

CORNELIUS  O'BRIEN,  Archbishop  of  Halifax. 

THE  night  was  one  of  velvety  softness,  and  the 
stars,  as  if  suspecting  his  mission,  blinked  delicately 
and  discreetly  down  upon  him,  while  Vesper,  who 
knew  every  step  of  the  way,  went  speeding  down  the 
Bay  with  a  wildly  beating  heart. 

Several  Acadiens  recognized  him  as  he  swept  past 
281 


282  XOSE    A    CHARLITTR. 

them  on  the  road,  but  he  did  not  stop  to  parley  with 
them,  for  he  wished  to  reach  Yarmouth  as  soon  as 
possible.  His  brain  was  tortured,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that,  at  every  revolution  of  his  wheels,  a  swift, 
subtle  temptation  assaulted  him  more  insidiously  and 
more  fiercely.  He  would  pass  right  by  the  Sleeping 
Water  Inn.  Why  should  he  not  pause  there  for  a 
few  minutes  and  make  some  arrangement  with  Rose 
about  Narcisse,  who  was  still  in  Boston  ?  He  cer 
tainly  had  a  duty  to  perform  towards  the  child.  Would 
it  not  be  foolish  for  him  to  pass  by  the  mother's  door 
without  speaking  to  her  of  him  ?  What  harm  could 
there  be  in  a  conversation  of  five  minutes'  duration  ? 

His  head  throbbed,  his  muscles  contracted.  Only 
this  afternoon  he  had  been  firm,  as  firm  as  a  rock. 
He  had  sternly  resolved  not  to  see  her  again,  not  to 
write  to  her,  not  to  meet  her,  not  to  send  her  a  mes 
sage,  unless  he  should  hear  that  she  had  been  released 
from  the  bond  of  her  marriage.  What  had  come  over 
him  now  ?  He  was  as  weak  as  a  child.  He  had  bet 
ter  stop  and  think  the  matter  over  ;  and  he  sprang 
from  his  wheel  and  threw  himself  down  on  a  grassy 
bank,  covered  with  broad  leaves  that  concealed  the 
dead  and  withered  flowers  of  the  summer. 

Somewhere  in  the  darkness  behind  him  was  lonely 
Piau's  Isle,  where  several  of  the  Acadien  forefathers 
of  the  Bay  lay  buried.  What  courage  and  powers  of 
endurance  they  had  possessed  !  They  had  bravely 


A    SUPREME   ADIEU.  283 

borne  their  burdens,  lived  their  day,  and  were  now  at 
rest.  Some  day,  —  in  a  few  years,  perhaps,  —  he, 
too,  would  be  a  handful  of  dust,  and  he,  too,  would 
leave  a  record  behind  him  ;  what  would  his  record 
be? 

He  bit  his  lip  and  set  his  teeth  savagely.  He  was 
a  fool  and  a  coward.  He  would  not  go  to  Sleeping 
Water,  but  would  immediately  turn  his  back  on 
temptation,  and  go  to  Wey mouth.  He  could  stay 
at  a  hotel  there  all  night,  and  take  the  train  in  the 
morning. 

The  soft  air  caressed  his  weary  head ;  for  a  long 
time  he  lay  staring  up  at  the  stars  through  the  inter 
laced  branches  of  an  apple-tree  over  him,  then  he 
slowly  rose.  His  face  was  towards  the  head  of  the 
Bay  ;  he  no  longer  looked  towards  Sleeping  Water, 
but  for  a  minute  he  stood  irresolutely,  and  in  that 
brief  space  of  time  his  good  resolution  was  irrevocably 
lost. 

Some  girls  were  going  to  a  merrymaking,  and,  as 
they  went,  they  laughed  gaily  and  continuously. 
One  of  them  had  clear,  silvery  tones  like  those  of 
Rose.  The  color  again  surged  to  his  face,  the 
blood  flew  madly  through  his  veins.  He  must  see 
her,  if  only  for  an  instant ;  and,  hesitating  no  longer, 
he  turned  and  went  careering  swiftly  through  the 
darkness. 

A  short  time  later  he  had  reached  the  inn.     There 


284  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

was  a  light  in  Rose's  window.  She  must  have  gone 
to  bed.  Celina  only  was  in  the  kitchen,  and,  with  a 
hasty  glance  at  her,  he  walked  to  the  stable. 

A  terrible  quacking  in  the  duck-yard  advised  him 
who  was  there,  and  he  was  further  assured  by  hearing 
an  irritable  voice  exclaim,  "  If  fowls  were  hatched 
dumb,  there  would  not  be  this  distracting  tumult !  " 

Agapit  was  after  a  duck.  It  fell  to  his  lot  to  do 
the  killing  for  the  household,  and  it  was  so  great  a 
trial  to  his  kind  heart  that,  if  the  other  members  of 
the  family  had  due  warning,  they  usually,  at  such 
times,  shut  themselves  up  to  be  out  of  reach  of  his 
lamentable  outcries  when  he  was  confronted  by  a 
protesting  chicken,  an  innocent  lamb,  a  tumultuous 
pig,  or  a  trusting  calf. 

Just  now  he  emerged  from  the  yard,  holding  a 
sleepy  drake  by  the  wing. 

"  Misericorde  /  "  he  exclaimed,  when  he  almost  ran 
into  Vesper,  "who  is  it?  You  —  you?"  and  he 
peered  at  him  through  the  darkness. 

"Yes,  it  is  I." 

"  Confiding  fool,"  said  Agapit,  impatiently  tossing 
the  drake  back  among  his  startled  comrades,  "  I  will 
save  thy  neck  once  more." 

Vesper  marked  the  emphasis.  "  I  am  on  my  way 
to  Yarmouth,"  he  said,  calmly,  "and  I  have  stopped 
to  see  your  cousin  about  Narcisse." 

"Ah!  —  he  is  well,  I  trust." 


A   SUPREME   ADIEU.  285 

"  He  is  better  than  when  he  was  here." 

"  His  mother  has  gone  to  bed." 

"  I  will  wait,  then,  until  the  morning." 

"Ah!  "  said  Agapit  again  ;  then  he  laughed  reck 
lessly  and  seized  Vesper's  hand.  "  I  cannot  pretend. 
You  see  that  I  am  rejoiced  to  have  you  again  with 
us." 

"  I,  too,  am  glad  to  be  here." 

"  But  you  will  not  stay  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Agapit,  —  you  know  me  better  than 
that." 

Vesper's  tone  was  confident,  yet  Agapit  looked 
anxiously  at  him  through  the  gathering  gloom.  "  It 
would  be  better  for  Rose  not  to  see  you." 

"  Agapit,  — we  are  not  babies." 

"  No,  you  are  worse,  —  it  is  well  said  that  only  our 
Lord  loves  lovers.  No  other  would  have  patience." 

Vesper  held  his  straight  figure  a  little  straighter, 
and  his  manner  warned  the  young  Acadien  to  be 
careful  of  what  he  said,  but  he  dashed  on,  "  Words 
are  brave  ;  actions  are  braver." 

"  How  is  Madame  de  Foret  ? "  asked  Vesper, 
shortly. 

"What  do  you  expect, — joyous,  riotous  health? 
Reflect  only  that  she  has  been  completely  overthrown 
about  her  child.  I  hope  that  madame,  your  mother, 
is  well." 

"  She  has  not  been  in  such  good  health  for  years. 


286  J?OS£   A    CHARLITTE. 

She  is  greatly  entertained  by  Narcisse,"  and  Vesper 
smiled  at  some  reminiscence. 

"It  is  one  of  the  most  charming  of  nights,"  said 
Agapit,  insinuatingly.  "  Toochune  would  be  glad  to 
have  a  harness  on  his  back.  We  could  fly  over  the 
road  to  Yarmouth.  It  would  be  more  agreeable  than 
travelling  by  day." 

"  Thank  you,  Agapit,  —  I  do  not  wish  to  go 
to-night." 

"Oh,  you  self-willed  one, — you  Lucifer!"  said 
Agapit,  wildly.  "  You  dare-all,  you  conquer-all ! 
Take  care  that  you  are  not  trapped." 

"  Come,  show  me  a  room,"  said  Vesper,  who  was 
secretly  gratified  with  the  irrepressible  delight  of  the 
Acadien  in  again  seeing  him,  —  a  delight  that  could 
not  be  conquered  by  his  anxiety. 

"This  evening  the  house  is  again  full,"  said  Aga 
pit.  "  Rose  is  quite  wearied  ;  come  softly  up-stairs. 
I  can  give  you  but  the  small  apartment  next  her 
own,  but  you  must  not  rise  early  in  the  morning,  and 
seek  an  interview  with  her." 

Two  angry  red  spots  immediately  appeared  in 
Vesper's  cheeks,  and  he  stared  haughtily  at  him. 

Agapit  snapped  his  fingers.  "  I  trust  you  not 
that  much,  though  if  you  had  not  come  back,  my 
confidence  would  have  reached  to  eternity.  You  are 
unfortunately  too  nobly  human,  —  why  were  you  not 
divine  ?  But  I  must  not  reproach.  Have  I  not  too 


A    SUPREME    ADIEU.  28 / 

been  a  lover  ?  You  are  capable  of  all,  even  of  talk 
ing  through  the  wall  with  your  beloved.  You  should 
have  stayed  away,  you  should  have  stayed  away !  " 
and,  grumbling  and  shaking  his  head,  he  ushered 
his  guest  up-stairs,  and  into  a  tiny  and  exquisitely 
clean  room,  that  contained  only  a  bed,  a  table,  a 
wash-stand,  and  one  chair. 

Agapit  motioned  Vesper  to  the  chair,  and  sprawled 
himself  half  over  the  foot  of  the  bed,  half  out  the 
open  window,  while  he  talked  to  his  companion, 
whose  manner  had  a  new  and  caressing  charm 
thnt  attracted  him  even  more  irresistibly  than  his 
former  cool  and  somewhat  careless  one  had  done. 

"  Ah,  why  is  life  so  ? "  he  at  last  exclaimed, 
springing  up,  with  a  sigh.  "  Under  all  is  such 
sadness.  Your  presence  gives  such  joy.  Why 
should  it  be  denied  us  ? " 

Vesper  stared  at  his  shoes  to  hide  the  nervous 
tears  that  sprang  to  his  eyes. 

Agapit  immediately  averted  his  sorrowful  glance. 
"You  are  not  angry  with  me  for  my  free  speech?" 

"Good  heavens,  no!  "  said  Vesper,  irritably  turn 
ing  his  back  on  him,  "but  I  would  thank  you  to 
leave  me." 

"Good  night,"  said  the  Acadien,  softly.  "May 
the  blessed  Virgin  give  you  peace.  Remember  that 
I  love  you,  for  I  prophesy  that  we  on  the  morrow 
shall  quarrel,"  and  with  this  cheerful  assurance 


288  KOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

he  gently  closed  the  door,  and  went  to  the  next 
room. 

Rose  threw  open  the  door  to  him,  and  Agapit, 
though  he  was  prepared  for  any  change  in  her, 
yet  for  an  instant  could  not  conceal  his  astonish 
ment.  Where  was  her  pallor,  —  her  weariness  ? 
Gone,  like  the  mists  of  the  morning  before  the 
glory  of  the  sun.  Her  face  was  delicately  colored, 
her  blue  eyes  were  flooded  with  the  most  exquisite 
and  tender  light  that  he  had  ever  seen  in  them. 
She  had  heard  her  lover's  step,  and  Agapit  deject 
edly  reflected  that  he  should  have  even  more  trouble 
with  her  than  with  Vesper. 

"  Surely,  I  am  to  see  him  to-night  ? "  she  mur 
mured. 

"  Surely  not,"  growled  Agapit.  "  For  what  do 
you  wish  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Agapit,  —  should  not  a  mother  hear  of  her  little 
one?" 

"  Is  it  for  that  only  you  wish  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  For  that,  — --also  for  other  things.  Is  he  changed, 
Agapit  ?  Has  his  face  grown  more  pale  ?  " 

Agapit  broke  into  vigorous  French.  "  He  is  more 
foolish  than  ever,  that  I  assure  thee.  Such  a  simple 
ton,  and  thou  lovest  him  !  " 

"  If  he  is  a  fool,  then  there  are  no  wise  men  in 
the  world  ;  but  thou  art  only  teasing.  Ah,  Agapit, 
dear  Agapit,"  and  she  clasped  her  hands,  and  ex- 


A    SUPREME   ADIEU.  289 

tended  them  towards  him.  "  Tell  me  only  what  he 
says  of  Narcisse." 

"  He  is  well;  he  will  tell  thee  in  the  morning  of  a 
plan  he  has.  Go  now  to  bed,  —  and  Rose,  to-mor 
row  be  sensible,  be  wise.  Thou  wert  so  noteworthy 
these  three  weeks  ago,  what  has  come  to  thee 
now  ? " 

"  Agapit,  thou  dost  remember  thy  mother  a  very 
little,  is  it  not  so?" 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"Thou  couldst  part  from  her;  but  suppose  she 
came  back  from  the  dead.  Suppose  thou  couldst 
hear  her  voice  in  the  hall,  what  wouldst  thou  do  ? " 

"I  would  run  to  greet  her,"  he  said,  rashly.  "I 
would  be  mad  with  pleasure." 

"That  man  was  as  one  dead,"  she  said,  with  an 
eloquent  gesture  towards  the  next  room.  "  I  did 
not  think  of  seeing  him  again.  How  can  I  cease 
from  joy?" 

"  Give  me  thy  promise,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "  not 
to  see  him  without  me.  Otherwise,  thou  mayst  be 
prowling  in  the  morning,  when  I  oversleep  myself, 
and  thou  wilt  talk  about  me  to  this  charming 
stranger." 

"Agapit,"  she  said,  in  amazement,  "wouldst  thou 
insult  me  ? " 

"  No,  little  rabbit,  —  I  would  only  prevent  thee 
from  insulting  me." 


ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"It  is  like  jailorizing.  I  shall  not  be  a  naughty 
child  in  a  cell." 

"  But  thou  wilt,"  he  said,  with  determination. 
"  Give  me  thy  promise." 

Rose  became  indignant,  and  Agapit,  who  was 
watching  her  keenly,  stepped  inside  her  room,  lest 
he  should  be  overheard.  "  Rose,"  he  said,  swiftly, 
and  with  a  deep,  indrawn  breath,  "  have  I  not  been 
a  brother  to  thee  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  —  until  now." 

"  Now,  most  of  all,  —  some  day  thou  wilt  feel  it. 
Would  I  do  anything  to  injure  thee?  I  tell  thee 
thou  art  like  a  weak  child  now.  Have  I  not  been  in 
love  ?  Do  not  I  know  that  for  a  time  one's  blood 
burns,  and  one  is  mad  ? " 

"But  what  do  you  fear?"  she  asked,  proudly, 
drawing  back  from  him. 

"  I  fear  nothing,  little  goose,"  he  exclaimed,  catch 
ing  her  by  the  wrist,  "  for  I  take  precautions.  I  have 
talked  to  this  young  man,  —  do  not  I  also  esteem 
him  ?  I  tell  thee,  as  I  told  him,  —  he  is  capable  of 
all,  and  when  thou  seest  him,  a  word,  a  look,  and  he 
will  insist  upon  thy  leaving  thy  husband  to  go  with 
him." 

"Agapit,  I  am  furious  with  thee.  Would  I  do  a 
wrong  thing  ? " 

"  Not  of  thyself  ;  but  think,  Rose,  thou  art  weak 
and  nervous.  Thy  strength  has  been  tried ;  when 


A   SUPREME   ADIEU.  29 1 

thou  seest  thy  lover  thou  wilt  be  like  a  silly  sheep. 
Trust  me,  —  when  thy  father,  on  his  dying  bed, 
pointed  to  thee,  I  knew  his  meaning.  Did  not  I  say 
'  Yes,  yes,  I  will  take  care  of  her,  for  she  is  beautiful, 
and  men  are  wicked.' ' 

"  But  thou  didst  let  me  marry  Charlitte,"  she  said, 
with  a  stifled  cry. 

Agapit  was  crushed  by  her  accusation.  He  made 
a  despairing  gesture.  "  I  have  expected  this,  but, 
Rose,  I  was  younger.  I  did  not  know  the  hearts  of 
women.  We  thought  it  well,  —  your  stepmother  and 
I.  He  begged  for  thee,  and  we  did  not  dream  — 
young  girls  sometimes  do  well  to  settle.  He  seemed 
a  wise  man  — 

"  Forgive  me,"  cried  Rose,  wildly,  and  suddenly 
pushing  him  towards  the  door,  "  and  go  away.  I  will 
not  talk  to  Mr.  Nimmo  without  thee." 

"  Some  day  thou  wilt  thank  me,"  said  Agapit.  "  It 
is  common  to  reproach  those  who  favor  us.  Left 
alone,  thou  wouldst  rise  early  in  the  morning,  —  thy 
handsome  Vesper  would  whisper  in  thy  ear,  and  I, 
rising,  might  find  thee  convinced  that  there  is  nothing 
for  thee  but  to  submit  to  the  sacrilege  of  a  divorce." 

Rose  was  not  touched  by  his  wistful  tones.  Her 
pretty  fingers  even  assisted  him  gently  from  the 
room,  and,  philosophically  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
he  went  to  bed. 

Rose,  left  alone,  pressed  her  empty  arms  and  pal- 


ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

pitating  heart  against  the  bare  walls  of  the  next 
room.  "  You  are  good  and  noble,  —  you  would  do 
nothing  wrong.  That  wicked  Agapit,  he  thinks  evil 
of  thee  —  "  and,  with  other  fond  and  foolish  words, 
she  stood  mutely  caressing  the  wall  until  fatigue 
overpowered  her,  when  she  undressed  and  crept  into 
her  lonely  bed. 

Agapit,  who  possessed  a  warm  heart,  an  ardent 
imagination,  and  a  lively  regard  for  the  other  sex, 
was  at  present  without  a  love-affair  of  his  own,  and 
his  mind  was  therefore  free  to  dwell  on  the  troubles 
of  Rose  and  Vesper.  All  night  long  he  dreamed  of 
lovers.  They  haunted  him,  tortured  him  with  their 
griefs,  misunderstandings,  and  afflictions,  and,  rather 
glad  than  sorry  to  awake  from  his  disturbed  sleep,  he 
lifted  his  shaggy  head  from  the  pillow  early  in  the 
morning  and,  vehemently  shaking  it,  muttered,  "  The 
devil  himself  is  in  those  who  make  love." 

Then,  with  his  protective  instinct  keenly  alive,  he 
sprang  up  and  went  to  the  window,  where  he  saw 
something  that  made  him  again  mutter  a  reference  to 
the  evil  one.  His  window  was  directly  over  that  of 
his  cousin,  and  although  it  was  but  daybreak,  she  was 
up  and  dressed,  and  leaning  from  it  to  look  at  Ves 
per,  who  stood  on  the  grass  below.  They  were  not 
carrying  on  a  conversation  ;  she  was  true  to  the  let 
ter  of  her  promise,  but  this  mute,  unspoken  dialogue 
was  infinitely  more  dangerous. 


A   SUPREME   ADIEU.  293 

Agapit  groaned,  and  surveyed  Vesper's  glowing 
face.  Who  would  dream  that  he,  so  dignified,  would 
condescend  to  this  ?  Was  it  arranged  through  the 
wall,  or  did  he  walk  under  her  window  and  think 
of  her  until  his  influence  drew  her  from  her  bed  ?  "  I 
also  have  done  such  things,"  he  muttered  ;  "possibly 
I  may  again,  therefore  I  must  be  merciful." 

Vesper  at  this  instant  caught  sight  of  his  dishev 
elled  head.  Rose  also  looked  up,  and  Agapit 
retreated  in  dismay  at  the  sound  of  their  stifled 
but  irresistible  laughter. 

"Ah,  you  do  not  cry  all  the  time,"  he  ejaculated, 
in  confusion  ;  then  he  made  haste  to  attire  himself 
and  to  call  for  Rose,  who  demurely  went  down-stairs 
with  him  and  greeted  Vesper  with  quiet  and  loving 
reserve. 

The  two  young  men  went  with  her  to  the  kitchen, 
where  she  touched  a  match  to  the  fire.  While  it  was 
burning  she  sat  down  and  talked  to  them,  or,  rather, 
they  talked  to  her.  The  question  was  what  to  do 
with  Narcisse. 

"  Madame  de  Foret,"  said  Vesper,  softly,  "  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  have  already  told  your  cousin.  I  re 
turned  home  unexpectedly  a  fortnight  ago,  having  in 
the  interval  missed  a  telegram  from  my  mother,  tell 
ing  me  that  your  boy  was  in  Boston.  When  I 
reached  my  own  door,  I  saw  to  my  surprise  the  child 
of  —  of  —  " 


294  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Of  the  woman  you  love,"  thought  Agapit,  grimly. 

"Your  child,"  continued  Vesper,  in  some  confu 
sion,  "  who  was  kneeling  on  the  pavement  before  our 
house.  He  had  dug  a  hole  in  the  narrow  circle  of 
earth  left  around  the  tree,  and  he  was  thrusting  por 
ridge  and  cream  down  it,  while  the  sparrows  on  the 
branches  above  watched  him  with  interest.  Here  in 
Sleeping  Water  we  had  about  stopped  that  feeding  of 
the  trees  ;  but  my  mother,  I  found,  indulged  him  in 
everything.  He  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  I  —  I  had 
dreaded  the  solitude  of  my  home,  and  I  quickly  dis 
covered  that  it  had  been  banished  by  his  presence. 
He  has  effected  a  transformation  in  my  mother,  and 
she  wishes  me  to  beg  you  that  we  may  keep  him  for 
a  time." 

Agapit  had  never  before  heard  Vesper  speak  at 
such  length.  He  himself  was  silent,  and  waited  for 
some  expression  of  opinion  from  Rose. 

She  turned  to  him.      "You  remember  what  our 
doctor   says  when   he  looks   over  my  little  one,  - 
that  he  is  weak,  and  the  air  of  the  Bay  is  too  strong 
for  him  ? " 

The  doctors  in  Boston  also  say  it,"  responded 
Agapit.  "Mrs.  Nimmo  has  taken  him  to  them." 

Rose  flashed  a  glance  of  inexpressible  gratitude  at 
Vesper. 

"You  wish  him  to  remain  in  Boston?"  said 
Agapit. 


A   SUPREME   ADIEU.  295 

"  Yes,  yes,  —  if  they  will  be  so  kind,  and  if  it 
is  right  that  we  allow  that  they  keep  him  for  a 
time." 

Agapit  reflected  a  minute.  Could  Rose  endure 
the  double  blow  of  a  separation  from  her  child  and 
from  her  lover  ?  Yes,  he  knew  her  well  enough  to 
understand  that,  although  her  mother  heart  and  her 
woman's  heart  would  be  torn,  she  would,  after  the 
first  sharp  pang  was  over,  cheerfully  endure  any 
torture  in  order  to  contribute  to  the  welfare  of  the 
two  beings  that  she  loved  best  on  earth.  Narcisse 
would  be  benefited  physically  by  the  separation, 
Vesper  would  be  benefited  mentally.  He  knew,  in 
addition,  that  a  haunting  dread  of  Charlitte  pos 
sessed  her.  Although  he  was  a  fickle,  unfaithful 
man,  the  paternal  instinct  might  some  day  awake 
in  him,  and  he  would  return  and  demand  his  child. 
Agapit  would  not  himself  be  surprised  to  see  him 
reappear  at  any  time  in  Sleeping  Water,  therefore 
he  said,  shortly,  "It  is  a  good  plan." 

"We  can  at  least  try  it,"  said  Vesper.  "I  will 
report  how  it  works." 

"And  while  he  is  with  you,  you  will  have  some 
instruction  in  his  own  religion  given  him  ? "  said 
Rose,  timidly. 

"You  need  not  mention  that,"  said  Vesper;  "it 
goes  without  saying." 

Rose  took  a  crucifix  from  her  breast  and  handed 


296  KOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

it  to  him.  "  You  will  give  him  that  from  his 
mother,"  she  said,  with  trembling  lips. 

Vesper  held  it  in  his  hand  for  a  minute,  then  he 
silently  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  broken  at  last  by  Agapit, 
who  said,  "  Will  you  get  the  breakfast,  Rose  ?  Mr. 
Nimmo  assured  me  that  he  wished  to  start  at  once. 
Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Vesper,  shortly. 

Rose  got  up  and  went  to  the  pantry. 

"Will  you  put  the  things  on  this  table?"  said 
Vesper.  "  And  will  not  you  and  Agapit  have 
breakfast  with  me  ?  " 

Rose  nodded  her  head,  and,  with  a  breaking  heart, 
she  went  to  and  fro,  her  feet  touching  the  hardwood 
floor  and  the  rugs  as  noiselessly  as  if  there  had  been 
a  death  in  the  house. 

The  two  young  men  sat  and  stared  at  the  stove 
or  out  the  windows.  Agapit  was  anathematizing 
Vesper  for  returning  to  settle  a  matter  that  could 
have  been  arranged  by  writing,  and  Vesper  was 
alternately  in  a  dumb  fury  with  Agapit  for  not 
leaving  him  alone  with  Rose,  or  in  a  state  of  ex 
travagant  laudation  because  he  did  not  do  so.  What 
a  watch-dog  he  was,  — what  a  sure  guardian  to  leave 
over  his  beautiful  sweetheart ! 

Dispirited  and  without  appetite,  the  three  at  last 
assembled  around  the  table.  Rose  choked  over  every 


A   SUPREME   ADIEU.  297 

morsel  that  she  ate,  until,  unable  longer  to  endure 
the  trial,  she  left  the  table,  and  contented  herself 
with  waiting  upon  them. 

Vesper  was  famished,  having  eaten  so  little  the 
evening  before,  yet  he  turned  away  from  the  toast 
and  coffee  and  chops  that  Rose  set  before  him. 

"  I  will  go  now ;  Agapit,  come  to  the  gate  with 
me.  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Rose  started  violently.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her 
whole  agitated,  overwrought  soul  had  gone  out  to 
her  lover  in  a  shriek  of  despair,  yet  she  had  not 
uttered  a  sound. 

Vesper  could  not  endure  the  agony  of  her  eyes. 
"  Rose,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  hands  to  her, 
"will  you  do  as  I  wish?" 

"  No,"  said  Agapit,  stepping  between  them. 

"Rose,"  said  Vesper,  caressingly,  "shall  I  go  to 
see  Charlitte  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  moaned,  desperately,  and  sinking 
to  a  chair,  she  dropped  her  swimming  head  on  the 
table. 

"No,"  said  Agapit,  again,  "you  shall  not  break 
God's  laws.  Rose  is  married  to  Charlitte." 

Vesper  tried  to  pass  him,  to  assist  Rose,  who  was 
half  fainting,  but  Agapit' s  burly  form  was  immov 
able,  and  the  furious  young  American  lifted  his  arm 
to  strike  him. 

"  Ndta,"  said  Agapit,  tossing  his  arm  in  the  air, 


298  XOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"two  blows  from  no  man  for  me,"  and  he  promptly 
knocked  Vesper  down. 

Rose,  shocked  and  terrified,  instantly  recovered. 
She  ran  to  her  fallen  hero,  bent  over  him  with  fond 
and  distracted  words,  and  when  he  struggled  to  his 
feet,  and  with  a  red  and  furious  face  would  have 
flown  at  Agapit,  she  restrained  him,  by  clinging  to 
his  arm. 

"Dear  fools,"  said  Agapit,  "I  would  have  saved 
you  this  humbling,  but  you  would  not  listen.  It  is 
now  time  to  part.  The  doctor  comes  up  the  road." 

Vesper  made  a  superhuman  effort  at  self-control, 
and  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  to  clear  away  the 
mists  of  passion.  Then  he  looked  through  the 
kitchen  window.  The  doctor  was  indeed  driving  up 
to  the  inn. 

"  Good-by,  Rose,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  do  you, 
Agapit,"  and  he  surveyed  the  Acadien  in  bitter 
resentment,  "  treat  Charlitte  as  you  have  treated  me, 
if  he  comes  for  her." 

Even  in  her  despair  Rose  reflected  that  they  were 
parting  in  anger. 

"  Vesper,  Vesper,  —  most  darling  of  men,"  she 
cried,  wildly,  detaining  him,  "shake  hands,  at  least." 

"I  will  not,"  he  muttered,  then  he  gently  put  her 
from  him,  and  flung  himself  from  the  room. 

"  One  does  not  forget  those  things,"  said  Agapit, 
gloomily,  and  he  followed  her  out-of-doors. 


A   SUPREME   ADIEU.  299 

Vesper,  staggering  so  that  he  could  hardly  mount 
his  wheel,  was  just  about  to  leave  the  yard.  Rose 
clung  to  the  doorpost,  and  watched  him  ;  then  she 
ran  to  the  gate. 

Down,  down  the  Bay  he  went ;  farther,  farther, 
always  from  her.  First  the  two  shining  wheels  disap 
peared,  then  his  straight  blue  back,  then  the  curly 
head  with  the  little  cap.  She  had  lost  him,  — •  per 
haps  forever ;  and  this  time  she  fainted  in  earnest, 
and  Agapit  carried  her  to  the  kitchen,  where  the 
English  doctor,  who  had  been  the  one  to  attend 
Vesper,  stood,  with  a  shrewd  and  pitying  look  on 
his  weather-beaten  face. 


BOOK  II. 
BIDIANE 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  NEW  ARRIVAL  AT  SLEEPING  WATER. 

"  But  swift  or  slow  the  days  will  pass, 
The  longest  night  will  have  a  morn, 
And  to  each  day  is  duly  born 
A  night  from  Time's  inverted  glass." 

—  Aminta. 

FIVE  years  have  passed  away,  —  five  long  years. 
Five  times  the  Acadien  farmers  have  sown  their 
seeds.  Five  times  they  have  gathered  their  crops. 
Five  times  summer  suns  have  smiled  upon  the  Bay, 
and  five  times  winter  winds  have  chilled  it.  And 
five  times  five  changes  have  there  been  in  Sleeping 
Water,  though  it  is  a  place  that  changes  little. 

Some  old  people  have  died,  some  new  ones  have 
been  born,  but  chief  among  all  changes  has  been  the 
one  effected  by  the  sometime  presence,  and  now 
always  absence,  of  the  young  Englishman  from 
Boston,  who  had  come  so  quietly  among  the  Aca- 
diens,  and  had  gone  so  quietly,  and  yet  whose  influ 
ence  had  lingered,  and  would  always  linger  among 
them. 

In  the  first  place,  Rose  a  Charlitte  had  given  up 
3°3 


304  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

the  inn.  Shortly  after  the  Englishman  had  gone 
away,  her  uncle  had  died,  and  had  left  her,  not  a 
great  fortune,  but  a  very  snug  little  sum  of  money- 
and  with  a  part  of  it  she  had  built  herself  a  cottage 
on  the  banks  of  Sleeping  Water  River,  where  she 
now  lived  with  Celina,  her  former  servant,  who  had, 
in  her  devotion  to  her  mistress,  taken  a  vow  never  to 
marry  unless  Rose  herself  should  choose  a  husband. 
This  there  seemed  little  likelihood  of  her  doing.  She 
had  apparently  forsworn  marriage  when  she  rejected 
the  Englishman.  All  the  Bay  knew  that  he  had  been 
violently  in  love  with  her,  all  the  Bay  knew  that  she 
had  sent  him  away,  but  none  knew  the  reason  for  it. 
She  had  apparently  loved  him,  —  she  had  certainly 
never  loved  any  other  man.  It  was  suspected  that 
Agapit  LeNoir  was  in  the  secret,  but  he  would  not 
discuss  the  Englishman  with  any  one,  and,  gentle 
and  sweet  as  Rose  was,  there  were  very  few  who 
cared  to  broach  the  subject  to  her. 

Another  change  had  been  the  coming  to  Sleeping 
Water  of  a  family  from  up  the  Bay.  They  kept  the 
inn  now,  and  they  were  proteges  of  the  Englishman, 
and  relatives  of  a  young  girl  that  he  and  his  mother 
had  taken  away  —  away  across  the  ocean  to  France 
some  four  years  before  —  because  she  was  a  badly 
brought  up  child,  who  did  not  love  her  native  tongue 
nor  her  father's  people. 

It  had  been  a  wonderful  thing  that  had  happened 


A    NEW  ARRIVAL    AT  SLEEPING    WATER.     305 

to  these  Watercrows  in  the  coming  of  the  English 
man  to  the  Bay.  His  mission  had  been  to  search  for 
the  heirs  of  Etex  LeNoir,  who  had  been  murdered 
by  his  great-grandfather  at  the  time  of  the  terrible 
expulsion,  and  he  had  found  a  direct  one  in  the 
person  of  this  naughty  little  Bidiane. 

She  had  been  a  great  trouble  to  him  at  first,  it 
was  said,  but,  under  his  wise  government,  she  had 
soon  sobered  down  ;  and  she  had  also  brought  him 
luck,  as  much  luck  as  a  pot  of  gold,  for,  directly 
after  he  had  discovered  her  he  —  who  had  not 
been  a  rich  young  man,  but  one  largely  dependent 
on  his  mother  —  had  fallen  heir  to  a  large  fortune, 
left  to  him  by  a  distant  relative.  This  relative  had 
been  a  great-aunt,  who  had  heard  of  his  romantic 
and  dutiful  journey  to  Acadie,  and,  being  touched 
by  it,  and  feeling  assured  that  he  was  a  worthy 
young  man,  she  had  immediately  made  a  will,  leav 
ing  him  all  that  she  possessed,  and  had  then  died. 

He  had  sought  to  atone  for  the  sins  of  his  fore 
fathers,  and  had  reaped  a  rich  reward. 

A  good  deal  of  the  Englishman's  money  had  been 
bestowed  on  these  Watercrows.  With  kindly  toler 
ance,  he  had  indulged  a  whim  of  theirs  to  go  to 
Boston  when  they  were  obliged  to  leave  their  heavily 
mortgaged  farm.  It  was  said  that  they  had  expected 
to  make  vast  sums  of  money  there.  The  English 
man  knew  that  they  could  not  do  so,  but  that  they 


306  ROSK   A    CHAKLTTTR. 

might  cease  the  repinings  and  see  for  themselves 
what  a  great  city  really  was  for  poor  people,  he 
had  allowed  them  to  make  a  short  stay  in  one. 

The  result  had  been  that  they  were  horrified ; 
yes,  absolutely  horrified,  —  this  family  transported 
from  the  wide,  beautiful  Bay,  —  at  the  narrowness  of 
the  streets  in  the  large  city  of  Boston,  at  the  rush  of 
people,  the  race  for  work,  the  general  crowding  and 
pushing,  the  oppression  of  the  poor,  the  tiny  rooms 
in  which  they  were  obliged  to  live,  and  the  foul  air 
which  fairly  suffocated  them. 

They  had  begged  the  Englishman  to  let  them 
come  back  to  the  Bay,  even  if  they  lived  only  in  a 
shanty.  They  could  not  endure  that  terrible  city. 

He  generously  had  given  them  the  Sleeping  Water 
Inn  that  he  had  bought  when  Rose  a  Charlitte  had 
left  it,  and  there  they  had  tried  to  keep  a  hotel,  with 
but  indifferent  success,  until  Claudine,  the  widow  of 
Isidore  Kessy,  had  come  to  assist  them. 

The  Acadiens  in  Sleeping  Water,  with  their  keen 
social  instincts,  and  sympathetically  curious  habit  of 
looking  over,  and  under,  and  into,  and  across  every 
subject  of  interest  to  them,  were  never  tired  of  dis 
cussing  Vesper  Nimmo  and  his  affairs.  He  had 
still  with  him  the  little  Narcisse  who  had  run  from 
the  Bay  five  years  before,  and,  although  the  English 
man  himself  never  wrote  to  Rose  a  Charlitte,  there 
came  every  week  to  the  Bay  a  letter  addressed  to  her 


A    NEW  ARRIVAL    AT  SLEEPING    WATER.     307 

in  the  handwriting  of  the  young  Bidiane  LeNoir, 
who,  according  to  the  instructions  of  the  Englishman, 
gave  Rose  a  full  and  minute  account  of  every  occur 
rence  in  her  child's  life.  In  this  way  she  was  kept 
from  feeling  lonely. 

These  letters  were  said  to  be  delectable,  yes, 
quite  delectable.  Celina  said  so,  and  she  ought 
to  know. 

The  white-headed,  red-coated  mail-driver,  who  never 
flagged  in  his  admiration  for  Vesper,  was  just  now 
talking  about  him.  Twice  a  day  during  the  long  five 
years  had  Emmanuel  de  la  Rive  flashed  over  the  long 
road  to  the  station.  Twice  a  day  had  this  descendant 
of  the  old  French  nobleman  courteously  taken  off 
his  hat  to  the  woman  who  kept  the  station,  and  then, 
placing  it  on  his  knee,  had  sat  down  to  discuss  calmly 
and  impartially  the  news  of  the  day  with  her,  in  the 
ten  minutes  that  he  allowed  himself  before  the  train 
arrived.  He  in  the  village,  she  at  the  station,  could 
most  agreeably  keep  the  ball  of  gossip  rolling,  so  that 
on  its  way  up  and  down  the  Bay  it  might  not  make 
too  long  a  tarrying  at  Sleeping  Water. 

On  this  particular  July  morning  he  was  on  his 
favorite  subject.  "  Has  it  happened  to  come  to  your 
ears,  "  he  said  in  his  shrill,  musical  voice  to  Madame 
Theriault,  who,  as  of  old,  was  rocking  a  cradle 
with  her  foot,  and  spinning  with  her  hands,  "  that 
there  is  talk  of  a  great  scheme  that  the  Englishman 


3O8  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

has  in  mind  for  having  cars  that  will  run  along  the 
shores  of  the  Bay,  without  a  locomotive  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have  heard." 

"  It  would  be  a  great  thing  for  the  Bay,  as  we  are 
far  from  these  stations  in  the  woods." 

"  It  is  my  belief  that  he  will  some  day  return,  and 
Rose  will  then  marry  him,"  said  the  woman,  who, 
true  to  the  traditions  of  her  sex,  took  a  more  lively 
interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  heart  than  in  those 
connected  with  means  of  transportation. 

"It  is -evident  that  she  does  not  wish  to  marry 
now,"  he  said,  modestly. 

"  She  lives  like  a  nun.  It  is  incredible  ;  she  is 
young,  yet  she  thinks  only  of  good  works." 

"At  least,  her  heart  is  not  broken." 

"  Hearts  do  not  break  when  one  has  plenty  of 
money,"  said  Madame  Theriault,  wisely. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  the  child,  I  daresay  that  she 
would  become  a  holy  woman.  Did  you  near  that  the 
family  with  typhoid  fever  can  at  last  leave  her  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  long  ago,  —  ages." 

"I  heard  only  this  morning,"  he  said,  dejectedly, 
then  he  brightened,  "  but  it  was  told  to  me  that  it  is 
suspected  that  the  young  Bidiane  LeNoir  will  come 
back  to  the  Bay  this  summer." 

"  Indeed,  —  can  that  be  so  ?  " 

"  It  is  quite  true,  I  think.  I  had  it  from  the 
blacksmith,  whose  wife  Perside  heard  it  from  Celina." 


A    NEW  ARRIVAL    AT  SLEEPING    WATER.     309 

"  Who  had  it  from  Rose  —  eh  bonn  !  e/i  bonn  !  eJi 
bonn  !  "  (Eh  bien  ! —  well,  well,  well).  "  The  young 
girl  is  now  old  enough  to  marry.  Possibly  the 
Englishman  will  marry  her." 

Emmanuel's  fine  face  flushed,  and  his  delicate  voice 
rose  high  in  defence  of  his  adored  Englishman.  "  No, 
no  ;  he  does  not  change,  that  one,  —  not  more  so 
than  the  hills.  He  waits  like  Gabriel  for  Evangeline. 
This  is  also  the  opinion  of  the  Bay.  You  are  quite 
alone  —  but  hark!  is  that  the  train  ?"  and  clutching 
his  mail-bag  by  its  long  neck,  he  slipped  to  the 
kitchen  door,  which  opened  on  the  platform  of  the 
station. 

Yes  ;  it  was  indeed  the  Flying  Bluenose,  coming 
down  the  straight  track  from  Pointe  a  1'Eglise,  with 
a  shrill  note  of  warning. 

Emmanuel  hurried  to  the  edge  of  the  platform, 
and  extended  his  mail-bag  to  the  clerk  in  shirt 
sleeves,  who  leaned  from  the  postal-car  to  take  it, 
and  to  hand  him  one  in  return.  Then,'  his  duty 
over,  he  felt  himself  free  to  take  observations  of  any 
passengers  that  there  might  be  for  Sleeping  Water. 

There  was  just  one,  and  —  could  it  be  possible  — 
could  he  believe  the  evidence  of  his  eyesight  —  had 
the  little  wild,  red-haired  apostate  from  up  the  Bay 
at  last  come  back,  clothed  and  in  her  right  mind  ? 
He  made  a  mute,  joyous  signal  to  the  station  woman 
who  stood  in  the  doorway,  then  he  drew  a  little 


3IO  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

nearer  to  the  very  composed  and  graceful  girl  who 
had  just  been  assisted  from  the  train,  with  great  def 
erence,  by  a  youthful  conductor. 

"Are  my  trunks  all  out  ?"  she  said  to  him,  in  a 
tone  of  voice  that  assured  the  mail-man  that,  without 
being  bold  or  immodest,  she  was  quite  well  able  to 
take  care  of  herself. 

The  conductor  pointed  to  the  brakemen,  who 
were  tumbling  out  some  luggage  to  the  platform. 

"  I  hope  that  they  will  be  careful  of  my  wheel," 
said  the  girl. 

"  It's  all  right,"  replied  the  conductor,  and  he 
raised  his  arm  as  a  signal  for  the  train  to  move  on. 
"  If  anything  goes  wrong  with  it,  send  it  to  this  sta 
tion,  and  I  will  take  it  to  Yarmouth  and  have  it 
mended  for  you." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  girl,  graciously;  then  she 
turned  to  Emmanuel,  and  looked  steadfastly  at  his 
red  jacket. 

He,  meanwhile,  politely  tried  to  avert  his  eyes 
from  her,  but  he  could  not  do  so.  She  was  fresh 
from  the  home  of  the  Englishman  in  Paris,  and  he 
could  not  conceal  his  tremulous  eager  interest  in 
her.  She  was  not  beautiful,  like  flaxen-haired  Rose 
a  Charlitte,  nor  dark  and  statuesque,  like  the  stately 
Claudine  ;  but  she  was  distingute,  yes,  trh-distinguee, 
and  her  manner  was  just  what  he  had  imagined  that 
of  a  true  Parisienne  would  be  like.  She  was  small 


"'MADEMOISELLE,    I    SALUTE    YOUR    RETURN.'" 


A    NEW  ARRIVAL    AT  SLEEPING    WATER.     311 

and  dainty,  and  possessed  a  back  as  straight  as  a 
soldier's,  and  a  magnificent  bust.  Her  round  face 
was  slightly  freckled,  her  nose  was  a  little  up-turned, 
but  the  hazy,  fine  mass  of  hair  that  surrounded  her 
head  was  most  beauteous, — it  was  like  the  sun  shin 
ing  through  the  reddish  meadow  grass. 

He  was  her  servant,  her  devoted  slave,  and  Em 
manuel,  who  had  never  dreamed  that  he  possessed 
patrician  instincts,  bowed  low  before  her,  "  Made 
moiselle,  I  am  at  your  service." 

"  Merci,  monsieur"  (thank  you,  sir),  she  said,  with 
conventional  politeness  ;  then  in  rapid  and  exquisite 
French,  that  charmed  him  almost  to  tears,  she  asked, 
mischievously,  "  But  I  have  never  been  here  before, 
how  do  you  know  me  ?  " 

He  bowed  again.  "The  name  of  Mademoiselle 
Bidiane  LeNoir  is  often  on  our  lips.  Mademoiselle, 
I  salute  your  return." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Monsieur  de  la  Rive,"  she 
said,  with  a  frank  smile  ;  then  she  precipitated  herself 
on  a  bed  of  yellow  marigolds  growing  beside  the  sta 
tion  house.  "  Oh,  the  delightful  flowers  !  " 

"  Is  she  not  charming?  "  murmured  Emmanuel,  in  a 
blissful  undertone,  to  Madame  Theriault.  "  What 
grace,  what  courtesy  !  —  and  it  is  due  to  the  Eng 
lishman." 

Madame  Theriault's  black  eyes  were  critically  run 
ning  over  Bidiane's  tailor-made  gown.  "  The  English- 


312  K OSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

man  will  marry  her,"  she  said,  sententiously.  Then 
she  asked,  abruptly,  "  Have  you  ever  seen  her  be 
fore  ?  " 

"  Yes,  once,  years  ago  ;  she  was  a  little  hawk,  I 
assure  you." 

"She  will  do  now,"  and  the  woman  approached 
her.  "  Mademoiselle,  may  I  ask  for  your  checks." 

Bidiane  sprang  up  from  the  flower  bed  and  caught 
her  by  both  hands.  "  You  are  Madame  Theriault  - 
I  know  of  you  from  Mr.  Nimmo.  Ah,  it  is  pleasant 
to  be  among  friends.  For  days  and  days  it  has  been 
strangers  —  strangers  —  only  strangers.  Now  I  am 
with  my  own  people,"  and  she  proudly  held  up  her 
red  head. 

The  woman  blushed  in  deep  gratification.  "  Ma 
demoiselle,  I  am  more  than  glad  to  see  you.  How  is 
the  young  Englishman  who  left  many  friends  on  the 
Bay?" 

"  Do  you  call  him  young  ?     He  is  at  least  thirty." 

"  But  he  was  young  when  here." 

"True,  I  forgot  that.  He  is  well,  very  well.  He 
is  never  ill  now.  He  is  always  busy,  and  such  a 
good  man  —  oh,  so  good  !  "  and  Bidiane  clasped  her 
hands,  and  rolled  her  lustrous,  tawny  eyes  to  the 
sky. 

"And  the  child  of  Rose  a  Charlitte  ? "  said  Em 
manuel,  eagerly. 

"  A  little  angel,  —  so  calm,  so  gentle,  so  polite.     If 


A    NEW  ARRirAL   AT  SLEEPING    WATER.     313 

you  could  see  him  bow  to  the  ladies,  —  it  is  ravishing, 
I  assure  you.  And  he  is  always  spoiled  by  Mrs. 
Nimmo,  who  adores  him." 

"  Will  he  come  back  to  the  Bay  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  and  Bidiane's  vivacious  face  grew 
puzzled.  "  I  do  not  ask  questions  —  alas  !  have  I 
offended  you  ?  —  I  assure  you  I  was  thinking  only  of 
myself.  I  am  curious.  I  talk  too  much,  but  you 
have  seen  Mr.  Nimmo.  You  know  that  beyond  a 
certain  point  he  will  not  go.  I  am  ignorant  of  his 
intentions  with  regard  to  the  child.  I  am  ignorant 
of  his  mother's  intentions  ;  all  I  know  is  that  Mr. 
Nimmo  wishes  him  to  be  a  forester." 

"  A  forester  !  "  ejaculated  Madame  Theriault,  "  and 
what  is  that  trade  ?  " 

Bidiane  laughed  gaily.  "  But,  my  dear  madame,  it 
is  not  a  trade.  It  is  a  profession.  Here  on  the  Bay 
we  do  not  have  it,  but  abroad  one  hears  often  of  it. 
Young  men  study  it  constantly.  It  is  to  take  care  of 
trees.  Do  you  know  that  if  they  are  cut  down,  water 
courses  dry  up  ?  In  Clare  we  do  not  think  of  that, 
but  in  other  countries  trees  are  thought  useful  and 
beautiful,  and  they  keep  them." 

"  Hold  —  but  that  is  wonderful,"  said  Emmanuel. 

Bidiane  turned  to  him  with  a  winning  smile.  "  Mon 
sieur,  how  am  I  to  get  to  the  shore  ?  I  am  eaten  up 
with  impatience  to  see  Madame  de  Foret  and  my 
aunt." 


314  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  But  there  is  my  cart,  mademoiselle,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  shed  beyond  them.  "  I  shall  feel 
honored  to  conduct  you." 

"  I  gladly  accept  your  offer,  monsieur.  An  revoir, 
madame." 

Madame  Theriault  reluctantly  watched  them  de 
part.  She  would  like  to  keep  this  gay,  charming 
creature  with  her  for  an  hour  longer. 

"  It  is  wonderful  that  they  did  not  come  to  meet 
you,"  said  Emmanuel,  "  but  they  did  not  expect  you 
naturally." 

"  I  sent  a  telegram  from  Halifax,"  said  Bidiane, 
"  but  can  you  believe  it  ?  —  I  was  so  stupid  as  to  say 
Wednesday  instead  of  Tuesday.  Therefore  Madame 
de  Foret  expects  me  to-morrow." 

"  You  advised  her  rather  than  Mirabelle  Marie,  but 
wherefore  ? " 

Bidiane  shook  her  shining  head.  "  I  do  not  know. 
I  did  not  ask ;  I  did  simply  as  Mr.  Nimmo  told 
me.  He  arranges  all.  I  was  with  friends  until  this 
morning.  Only  that  one  thing  did  I  do  alone  on 
the  journey,  —  that  is  to  telegraph,  —  and  I  did  it 
wrong,"  and  a  joyous,  subdued  peal  of  laughter  rang 
out  on  the  warm  morning  air. 

Emmanuel  reverently  assisted  her  into  his  cart,  and 
got  in  beside  her.  His  blood  had  been  quickened  in 
his  veins  by  this  unexpected  occurrence.  He  tried  not 
to  look  too  often  at  this  charming  girl  beside  him, 


A    NEW  ARRIVAL    AT  SLEEPING    WATER.     315 

but,  in  spite  of  his  best  efforts,  his  eyes  irresistibly 
and  involuntarily  kept  seeking  her  face.  She  was 
so  eloquent,  so  well-mannered  ;  her  clothes  were 
smooth  and  sleek  like  satin  ;  there  was  a  faint  per 
fume  of  lovely  flowers  about  her, —  she  had  come 
from  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  the  great  world 
into  which  he  had  never  ventured.  She  was  charged 
with  magic.  What  an  acquisition  to  the  Bay  she 
would  be ! 

He  carefully  avoided  the  ruts  and  stones  of  the 
road.  He  would  not  for  the  world  give  her  an  un 
necessary  shock,  and  he  ardently  wished  that  this 
highway  from  the  woods  to  the  Bay  might  be  as 
smooth  as  his  desire  would  have  it. 

"  And  this  is  Sleeping  Water,"  she  said,  dreamily. 

Emmanuel  assured  her  that  it  was,  and  she  imme 
diately  began  to  ply  him  with  questions  about  the 
occupants  of  the  various  farms  that  they  were  pass 
ing,  until  a  sudden  thought  flashed  into  her  mind  and 
made  her  laughter  again  break  out  like  music. 

"I  am  thinking  —  ah,  me!  it  is  really  too  absurd 
for  anything  —  of  the  astonishment  of  Madame  de 
Foret  when  I  walk  in  upon  her.  Tell  me,  I  beg  you, 
some  particulars  about  her.  She  wrote  not  very 
much  about  herself." 

Emmanuel  had  a  great  liking  for  Rose,  and  he  joy 
fully  imparted  to  Bidiane  the  most  minute  particulars 
concerning  her  dress,  appearance,  conduct,  daily  life, 


3l6  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

her  friends  and  surroundings.  He  talked  steadily  for 
a  mile,  and  Bidiane,  whose  curiosity  seemed  insatiable 
on  the  subject  of  Rose,  urged  him  on  until  he  was 
forced  to  pause  for  breath. 

Bidiane  turned  her  head  to  look  at  him,  and  im 
mediately  had  her  attention  attracted  to  a  new  sub 
ject.  "  That  red  jacket  is  charming,  monsieur,"  she 
said,  with  flattering  interest.  "  If  it  is  quite  agreeable, 
I  should  like  to  know  where  you  got  it." 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  know  that  in  Halifax  there  are 
many  soldiers." 

"  Yes,  —  English  ones.  There  were  French  ones 
in  Paris.  Oh,  I  adore  the  short  blue  capes  of  the 
military  men." 

"The  English  soldiers  wear  red  coats." 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Sometimes  they  are  sold  when  their  bright  sur 
face  is  soiled.  Men  buy  them,  and,  after  cleaning, 
sell  them  in  the  country.  It  is  cheerful  to  see  a 
farmer  working  in  a  field  clad  in  red." 

"  Ah  !  this  is  one  that  a  soldier  used  to  wear." 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  —  not  so  fast.  I  had  seen 
these  red  coats,  —  Acadiens  have  always  loved  that 
color  above  others.  I  wished  to  have  one;  therefore, 
when  asked  to  sing  at  a  concert  many  years  ago,  I 
said  to  my  sister,  '  Buy  red  cloth  and  make  me  a  red 
coat.  Put  trimmings  on  it.'  ' 

"  And  you  sang  in  this  ?  " 


A    NEW  ARRITAL    AT  SLEEPING    WATER.     3 1/ 

"No,  mademoiselle, — you  are  too  fast  again," 
and  he  laughed  delightedly  at  her  precipitancy. 
"  I  sang  in  one  long  years  ago,  when  I  was  young. 
Afterwards,  to  save,  —  for  we  Acadiens  do  not 
waste,  you  know,  —  I  wore  it  to  drive  in.  In  time 
it  fell  to  pieces." 

"  And  you  liked  it  so  much  that  you  had  another 
made  ? " 

"  Exactly,  mademoiselle.  You  have  guessed  it 
now,"  and  his  tones  were  triumphant. 

Her  curiosity  on  the  subject  of  the  coat  being 
satisfied,  she  returned  to  Rose,  and  finally  asked  a 
series  of  questions  with  regard  to  her  aunt. 

Her  chatter  ceased,  however,  when  they  reached 
the  Bay,  and,  overcome  with  admiration,  she  gazed 
silently  at  the  place  where 

"  From  shore  to  shore  the  shining  waters  lay, 
Beneath  the  sun,  as  placid  as  a  cheek." 

Emmanuel,  discovering  that  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  delicately  refrained  from  further  conversation 
until  they  reached  the  corner,  when  he  asked,  softly, 
"To  the  inn,  or  to  Madame  de  Foret's  ? " 

Bidiane  started.  "To  Madame  de  Foret's  —  no, 
no,  to  the  inn,  otherwise  my  aunt  might  be  offended." 

He  drew  up  before  the  veranda,  where  Mirabelle 
Marie  and  Claude  both  happened  to  be  standing. 
There  were  at  first  incredulous  glances,  then  a  great 


3l8  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

burst  of  noise  from  the  woman  and  an  amazed  grunt 
from  the  man. 

Bidiane  flew  up  the  steps  and  embraced  them,  and 
Emmanuel  lingered  on  in  a  trance  of  ecstasy.  He 
could  not  tear  himself  away,  and  did  not  attempt  to 
do  so  until  the  trio  vanished  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BIDIANE    GOES    TO    CALL    ON    ROSE    A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Love  duty,  ease  your  neighbor's  load, 
Learn  life  is  but  an  episode, 
And  grateful  peace  will  fill  your  mind." 

AMINTA.     ARCHBISHOP  O'BRIEN. 

MIRABELLE  MARIE  and  her  husband  seated  them 
selves  in  the  parlor  with  Bidiane  close  beside  them. 

"You're  only  a  mite  of  a  thing  yet,"  shrieked 
Mrs.  Watercrow,  "  though  you've  growed  up ;  but 
sakerje 7  how  fine,  how  fine,  —  and  what  a  shiny  cloth 
in  your  coat  !  How  much  did  that  cost?" 

"  Do  not  scream  at  me,"  said  Bidiane,  good- 
humoredly.  "  I  still  hear  well." 

Claude  a  Sucre  roared  in  a  stentorian  voice,  and 
clapped  his  knee.      "  She  comes  home  Eenglish,  - 
quite  Eenglish." 

"And  the  Englishman,  —  he  is  still  rich,"  said 
Mirabelle  Marie,  greedily,  and  feeling  not  at  all 
snubbed.  "  Does  he  wear  all  the  time  a  collar 
with  white  wings  and  a  split  coat?" 

"But  you  took  much  money  from  him,"  said 
Bidiane,  reproachfully. 


32O  ROSE    A    CHARLITTE. 

"Oh,  that  Boston,  —  that  divil's  hole!"  vocifer 
ated  Mirabelle  Marie.  "We  did  not  come  back  some 
first-class  Yankees  whitewashes.  No,  no,  we  are 
French  now, — you  bet !  When  I  was  a  young  one 
my  old  mother  used  to  ketch  flies  between  her  thumb 
and  finger.  She'd  say,  *Je  tc  squeezerai'  "  (I  will 
squeeze  you).  "  Well,  we  were  the  flies,  Boston  was 
my  old  mother.  But  you've-  been  in  cities,  Biddy 
Ann,  you  know  'em." 

"  Ah !  but  I  was  not  poor.  We  lived  in  a  beau 
tiful  quarter  in  Paris,  —  and  do  not  call  me  Biddy 
Ann  ;  my  name  is  Bidiane." 

"  Lord  help  us,  —  ain't  she  stylish  !  "  squealed  her 
delighted  aunt.  "  Go  on,  Biddy,  tell  us  about  the 
fine  ladies,  and  the  elegant  frocks,  and  the  dimens  ; 
everythin'  shines,  ain't  that  so  ?  Did  the  Eng 
lishman  shove  a  dollar  bill  in  yer  hand  every 
day  ? ' ' 

"No,  he  did  not,"  said  Bidiane,  with  dignity.  "I 
was  only  a  little  girl  to  him.  He  gave  me  scarcely 
any  money  to  spend." 

"  Is  he  goin'  to  marry  yer,  —  say  now,  Biddy,  ain't 
that  so  ? " 

Bidiane's  quick  temper  asserted  itself.  "  If  you 
don't  stop  being  so  vulgar,  I  sha'n't  say  another 
word  to  you." 

"  Aw,  shut  up,  now,"  said  Claude,  remonstratingly, 
to  his  wife. 


RIDIANE    CALLS   ON  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE.      $21 

Mrs.  Watercrow  was  slightly  abashed.  "  I  don't 
go  for  to  make  yeh  mad,"  she  said,  humbly. 

"  No,  no,  of  course  you  did  not,"  said  the  girl,  in 
quick  compunction,  and  she  laid  one  of  her  slim 
white  hands  on  Mirabelle  Marie's  fat  brown  ones. 
"  I  should  not  have  spoken  so  hastily." 

"  Look  at  that,  —  she's  as  meek  as  a  cat,"  said  the 
woman,  in  surprise,  while  her  husband  softly  caressed 
Bidiane's  shoulder. 

"  The  Englishman,  as  you  call  him,  does  not  care 
much  for  women,"  Bidiane  went  on,  gently.  "Now 
that  he  has  money  he  is  much  occupied,  and  he 
always  has  men  coming  to  see  him.  He  often  went 
out  with  his  mother,  but  rarely  with  me  or  with  any 
ladies.  He  travels,  too,  and  takes  Narcisse  with  him  ; 
and  now,  tell  me,  do  you  like  being  down  the  Bay  ? " 

Her  aunt  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  A  long  sight 
more'n  Boston." 

"Why  did  you  give  up  the  farm?"  said  the  girl 
to  Claude;  "the  old  farm  that  belonged  to  your 
grandfather." 

"  I  be  a  fool,  an'  I  don'  know  it  teel  long  after," 
said  Claude,  slowly. 

"  And  you  speak  French  here,  —  the  boys,  have 
they  learned  it  ?  " 

"  You  bet,  —  they  learned  in  Boston  from  Acajens. 
Biddy,  what  makes  yeh  come  back  ?  Yer  a  big  goose 
not  to  stay  with  the  Englishman." 


322  ROSK   A    CHARLITTE. 

Bidiane  surveyed  her  aunt  disapprovingly.  "  Could 
I  live  always  depending  on  him  ?  No,  I  wish  to  work 
hard,  to  earn  some  money, — and  you,  are  you  not 
going  to  pay  him  for  this  fine  house  ?  " 

"God  knows,  he  has  money  enough." 

"  But  we  mus'  pay  back,"  said  Claude,  smiting  the 
table  with  his  fist.  "  I  ain't  got  much  larnin',  but  I've 
got  a  leetle  idee,  an'  I  tell  you,  maw,  —  don'  you 
spen'  the  money  in  that  stockin'." 

His  wife's  fat  shoulders  shook  in  a  hearty  laugh. 

His  face  darkened.      "  You  give  that  to  Biddy." 

"Yes,"  said  his  niece,  "give  it  to  me.  Come 
now,  and  get  it,  and  show  me  the  house." 

Mrs.  Watercrow  rose  resignedly,  and  preceded  the 
girl  to  the  kitchen.  "  Let's  find  Claudine.  She's  a 
boss  cook,  mos'  as  good  as  Rose  a  Charlitte.  Biddy, 
be  you  goin'  to  stay  along  of  us  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl,  gaily.  "  Will  you 
have  me  ? " 

"  You  bet !  Biddy,"  —  and  she  lowered  her  voice, 
—  "  you  know  'bout  Isidore  ?  " 

The  girl  shuddered.      "  Yes." 

"  It  was  drink,  drink,  drink,  like  a  fool.  One  day, 
when  he  works  back  in  the  woods  with  some  of  those 
Frenchmen  out  of  France,  he  go  for  to  do  like  them, 
an'  roast  a  frog  on  the  biler  in  the  mill  ingine.  His 
brain  overs  welled,  overf  named,  an'  he  fell  agin  the 
biler.  Then  he  was  dead." 


B I  DIANE    CALLS   ON  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE.      323 

"Hush, — don't  talk  about  him;  Claudine  may 
hear  you." 

"  How,  —  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  I  know  everybody.  Mr.  Nimmo  and  his  mother 
talked  so  often  of  the  Bay.  They  do  not  wish  Nar- 
cisse  to  forget." 

"  That's  good.  Does  the  Englishman's  maw  like 
the  little  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  does." 

"  Claudine  ain't  here,"  and  Mirabelle  Marie  wad 
dled  through  the  kitchen,  and  directed  her  sneaks  to 
the  back  stairway.  "We'll  skip  up  to  her  room." 

Kidiane  followed  her,  but  when  Mrs.  Watercrow 
would  have  pushed  open  the  door  confronting  them, 
she  caught  her  hand. 

"Thedivil,"  said  her  surprised  relative,  "do  you 
want  to  scare  the  life  out  of  me  ? " 

"Knock,"  said  Bidiane,  "always,  always  at  the 
door  of  a  bedroom  or  a  private  room,  but  not  at  that 
of  a  public  one  such  as  a  parlor." 

"Am  I  English?"  exclaimed  Mirabelle  Marie, 
drawing  back  and  regarding  her  in  profound  astonish 
ment. 

"  No,  but  you  are  going  to  be,  —  or  rather  you  are 
going  to  be  a  polite  Frenchwoman,"  said  Bidiane, 
firmly. 

Mirabelle  Marie  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down 
her  cheeks.  She  had  just  had  presented  to  her,  in 


324  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

the  person  of  Bidiane,  a  delicious  and  first-class 
joke. 

Claudine  came  out  of  her  room,  and  silently  stared 
at  them  until  Bidiane  took  her  hand,  when  her  hand 
some,  rather  sullen  face  brightened  perceptibly. 

Bidiane  liked  her,  and  some  swift  and  keen  percep 
tion  told  her  that  in  the  young  widow  she  would  find 
a  more  apt  pupil  and  a  more  congenial  associate  than 
in  her  aunt.  She  went  into  the  room,  and,  sitting 
down  by  the  window,  talked  at  length  to  her  of 
Narcisse  and  the  Englishman. 

At  last  she  said,  "  Can  you  see  Madame  de  Foret's 
house  from  here  ?  " 

Mirabelle  Marie,  who  had  squatted  comfortably  on 
the  bed,  like  an  enormous  toad,  got  up  and  toddled 
to  the  window.  "  It's  there  ag'in  those  pines  back  of 
the  river.  There's  no  other  sim'lar." 

Bidiane  glanced  at  the  cool  white  cottage  against 
its  green  background.  "Why,  it  is  like  a  tiny  Grand 
Trianon  ! " 

"  An'  what's  that  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  villa  near  Paris,  a  very  fine  one,  built  in 
the  form  of  a  horseshoe." 

"Yes, — that's  what  we  call  it,"  interrupted  her 
aunt.  "  We  ain't  blind.  We  say  the  horseshoe 
cottage." 

"  One  of  the  kings  of  France  had  the  Grand  Tri 
anon  built  for  a  woman  he  loved,"  said  Bidiane,  rever- 


BIDIANE    CALLS   ON  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE.      325 

ently.  "  I  think  Mr.  Nimmo  must  have  sent  the  plan 
for  this  from  Paris,  —  but  he  never  spoke  to  me 
about  it." 

"  He  is  not  a  man  who  tells  all,"  said  Claudine,  in 
French. 

Bidiane  and  Mirabelle  Marie  had  been  speaking 
English,  but  they  now  reverted  to  their  own  language. 

"  When  do  you  have  lunch  ? "  asked  Bidiane. 

"  Lunch,  —  what's  that  ?  "  asked  her  aunt.  "  We 
have  dinner  soon." 

"  And  I  must  descend,"  said  Claudine,  hurrying 
down-stairs.  "  I  smell  something  burning." 

Bidiane  was  about  to  follow  her,  when  there  was  a 
clattering  heard  on  the  stairway. 

"  It's  the  young  ones,"  cried  Mirabelle  Marie, 
joyfully.  "  Some  fool  has  told  'em.  They'll  wring 
your  neck  like  the  blowpipe  of  a  chicken." 

The  next-  minute  two  noisy,  rough,  yet  slightly 
shy  boys  had  taken  possession  of  their  returned 
cousin  and  were  leading  her  about  the  inn  in 
triumph. 

Mirabelle  Marie  tried  to  keep  up  with  them,  but 
could  not  succeed  in  doing  so.  She  was  too  excited 
to  keep  still,  too  happy  to  work,  so  she  kept  on  wad 
dling  from  one  room  to  another,  to  the  stable,  the 
garden,  and  even  to  the  corner,  —  to  every  spot  where 
she  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  tail  of  Bidiane's  gown, 
or  the  heels  of  her  twinkling  shoes.  The  girl  was 


326  KUSE   A    CHARL1TTE. 

indefatigable ;  she  wished  to  see  everything  at  once. 
She  would  wear  herself  out. 

Two  hours  after  lunch  she  announced  her  deter 
mination  to  call  on  Rose. 

"  I'll  skip  along,  too,"  said  her  aunt,  promptly. 

"  I  wish  to  be  quite  alone  when  I  first  see  this 
wonderful  woman,"  said  Bidiane. 

"  But  why  is  she  wonderful  ? "  asked  Mirabelle 
Marie. 

Bidiane  did  not  hear  her.  She  had  flitted  out  to 
the  veranda,  wrapping  a  scarf  around  her  shoulders 
as  she  went.  While  her  aunt  stood  gazing  longingly 
after  her,  she  tripped  up  the  village  street,  enjoying 
immensely  the  impression  she  created  among  the 
women  and  children,  who  ran  to  the  doorways  and 
windows  to  see  her  pass. 

There  were  no  houses  along  the  cutting  in  the  hill 
through  which  the  road  led  to  the  sullen  stream  of 
Sleeping  Water.  Rose's  house  stood  quite  alone, 
and  at  some  distance  from  the  street,  its  gleaming, 
freshly  painted  front  towards  the  river,  its  curved 
back  against  a  row  of  pine-trees. 

It  was  very  quiet.  There  was  not  a  creature  stir 
ring,  and  the  warm  July  sunshine  lay  languidly  on 
some  deserted  chairs  about  a  table  on  the  lawn. 

Bidiane  went  slowly  up  to  the  hall  door  and  rang 
the  bell. 

Rosy-cheeked  Celina  soon  stood  before  her  ;  and 


BIDIANE    CALLS    ON  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE.      327 

smiling  a  welcome,  for  she  knew  very  well  who 
the  visitor  was,  she  gently  opened  the  door  of  a  long, 
narrow  blue  and  white  room  on  the  right  side  of  the 
hall. 

Bidiane  paused  on  the  threshold.  This  dainty, 
exquisite  apartment,  furnished  so  simply,  and  yet  so 
elegantly,  had  not  been  planned  by  an  architect  or 
furnished  by  a  decorator  of  the  Bay.  This  bric-a-brac, 
too,  was  not  Acadien,  but  Parisian.  Ah,  how  much 
Mr.  Nimmo  loved  Rose  a  Charlitte !  and  she  drew  a 
long  breath  and  gazed  with  girlish  and  fascinated  awe 
at  the  tall,  beautiful  woman  who  rose  from  a  low 
seat,  and  slowly  approached  her. 

Rose  was  about  to  address  her,  but  Bidiane  put 
up  a  protesting  hand.  "  Don't  speak  to  me  for  a 
minute,"  she  said,  breathlessly.  "  I  want  to  look 
at  you." 

Rose  smiled  indulgently,  and  Bidiane  gazed  on. 
She  felt  herself  to  be  a  dove,  a  messenger  sent  from 
a  faithful  lover  to  the  woman  he  worshipped.  What 
a  high  and  holy  mission  was  hers  !  She  trembled 
blissfully,  then,  one  by  one,  she  examined  the  features 
of  this  Acadien  beauty,  whose  quiet  life  had  kept  her 
from  fading  or  withering  in  the  slightest  degree. 
She  was,  indeed,  "a  rose  of  dawn." 

These  were  the  words  written  below  the  large 
painting  of  her  that  hung  in  Mr.  Nimmo's  room. 
She  must  tell  Rose  about  it,  although  of  course  the 


328  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

picture  and  the  inscription  must  be  perfectly  familiar 
to  her,  through  Mr.  Nimmo's  descriptions. 

"Madame  de  Foret,"  she  said  at  last,  "it  is  really 
you.  Oh,  how  I  have  longed  to  see  you  !  I  could 
scarcely  wait." 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  said  her  hostess,  just  a 
trifle  shyly. 

Bidiane  dropped  into  a  chair.  "  I  have  teased  Mrs. 
Nimmo  with  questions.  I  have  said  again  and  again, 
'What  is  she  like  ? '  -  —  but  I  never  could  tell  from 
what  she  said.  I  had  only  the  picture  to  go  by." 

"  The  picture  ? "  said  Rose,  slightly  raising  her 
eyebrows. 

"  Your  painting,  you  know,  that  is  over  Mr.  Nim 
mo's  writing-table." 

"  Does  he  have  one  of  me  ? "  asked  Rose,  quietly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  —  an  immense  one.     As  broad  as  that," 
—  and    she  stretched    out  her    arms.      "It  was  en 
larged  from  a  photograph." 

"  Ah  !  when  he  was  here  I  missed  a  photograph 
one  day  from  my  album,  but  I  did  not  know  that  he 
had  taken  it.  However,  I  suspected." 

"  But  does  he  not  write  you  everything  ?  " 

"  You  only  are  my  kind  little   correspondent,  — 
with,  of  course,   Narcisse." 

"  Really,  I  thought  that  he  wrote  everything  to 
you.  Dear  Madame  de  Foret,  may  I  speak  freely 
to  you?" 


BIDIANE    CALLS   ON  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE.      329 

"  As  freely  as  you  wish,  my  dear  child." 

Bidiane  burst  into  a  flood  of  conversation.  "  I 
think  it  is  so  romantic,  —  his  devotion  to  you.  He 
does  not  talk  of  it,  but  I  can't  help  knowing,  because 
Mrs.  Nimmo  talks  to  me  about  it  when  she  gets  too 
worked  up  to  keep  still.  She  really  loves  you, 
Madame  de  Foret.  She  wishes  that  you  would 
allow  her  son  to  marry  you.  If  you  only  knew 
how  much  she  admires  you,  I  am  sure  you  would 
put  aside  your  objection  to  her  son." 

Rose  for  a  few  minutes  seemed  lost  in  thought, 
then  she  said,  "  Does  Mrs.  Nimmo  think  that  I  do 
not  care  for  her  son?" 

"  No,  she  says  she  thinks  you  care  for  him, 
but  there  is  some  objection  in  your  mind  that  you 
cannot  get  over,  and  she  cannot  imagine  what  it 
is." 

"  Dear  little  mademoiselle,  I  will  also  speak  freely 
to  you,  for  it  is  well  for  you  to  understand,  and  I  feel 
that  you  are  a  good  friend,  because  I  have  received 
so  many  letters  from  you.  It  is  impossible  that  I 
should  marry  Mr.  Nimmo,  therefore  we  will  not 
speak  of  it,  if  you  please.  There  is  an  obstacle,  — 
he  knows  and  agrees  to  it.  Years  ago,  I  thought 
some  day  this  obstacle  might  be  taken  away.  Now, 
I  think  it  is  the  will  of  our  Lord  that  it  remain, 
and  I  am  content." 

"Oh,  oh!"  said  Bidiane,  wrinkling  her  face  as  if 


33O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

she  were  about  to  cry,  "  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  you 
say  this." 

Rose  smiled  gently.  "  When  you  are  older,  as 
old  as  I  am,  you  will  understand  that  marriage  is  not 
the  chief  thing  in  life.  It  is  good,  yet  one  can  be 
happy  without.  One  can  be  pushed  quietly  further 
and  further  apart  from  another  soul.  At  first,  one 
cries  out,  one  thinks  that  the  parting  will  kill,  but  it 
is  often  the  best  thing  for  the  two  souls.  I  tell  you 
this  because  I  love  you,  and  because  I  know  Mr. 
Nimmo  has  taken  much  care  in  your  training,  and 
wishes  me  to  be  an  elder  sister.  Do  not  seek  sorrow, 
little  one,  but  do  not  try  to  run  from  it.  This  dear, 
dear  man  that  you  speak  of,  was  a  divine  being,  a 
saint  to  me.  I  did  wrong  to  worship  him.  To  sepa 
rate  from  me  was  a  good  thing  for  him.  He  is  now 
more  what  I  then  thought  him,  than  he  was  at  the 
time.  Do  you  understand  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Bidiane,  breaking  into  tears,  and 
impulsively  throwing  herself  on  her  knees  beside  her, 
"  but  you  dash  my  pet  scheme  to  pieces.  I  wish  to 
see  you  two  united.  I  thought  perhaps  if  I  told  you 
that,  although  no  one  knows  it  but  his  mother,  he 
just  wor  —  wor — ships  you — 

Rose  stroked  her  head.      "Warm-hearted  child,  - 
and  also  loyal.       Our  Lord  rewards  such  devotion. 
Nothing  is  lost.     Your  precious  tears  remind  me  of 
those  I  once  shed." 


BIDIANE    CALLS   ON  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE.      33! 

Bidiane  did  not  recover  herself.  She  was  tired, 
excited,  profoundly  touched  by  Rose's  beauty  and 
"sweet  gravity  of  soul,"  and  her  perfect  resignation 
to  her  lot.  "  But  you  are  not  happy,"  she  exclaimed 
at  last,  dashing  away  her  tears  ;  "  you  cannot  be.  It 
is  not  right.  I  love  to  read  in  novels,  when  Mr. 
Nimmo  allows  me,  of  the  divine  right  of  passion.  I 
asked  him  one  day  what  it  meant,  and  he  explained. 
I  did  not  know  that  it  gave  him  pain,  —  that  his 
heart  must  be  aching.  He  is  so  quiet,  —  no  one 
would  dream  that  he  is  unhappy ;  yet  his  mother 
knows  that  he  is,  and  when  she  gets  too  worried, 
she  talks  to  me,  although  she  is  not  one-half  as  fond 
of  me  as  she  is  of  Narcisse." 

A  great  wave  of  color  came  over  Rose's  face  at 
the  mention  of  her  child.  She  would  like  to  speak 
of  him  at  once,  yet  she  restrained  herself. 

"Dear  little  girl,"  she  said,  in  her  low,  soothing 
voice,  "you  are  so  young,  so  delightfully  young. 
See,  I  have  just  been  explaining  to  you,  yet  you 
do  not  listen.  You  will  have  to  learn  for  yourself. 
The  experience  of  one  woman  does  not  help  another. 
Yet  let  me  read  to  you,  who  think  it  so  painful  a 
thing  to  be  denied  anything  that  one  wants,  a  few 
sentences  from  our  good  archbishop." 

Bidiane  sprang  lightly  to  her  feet,  and  Rose  went 
to  a  bookcase,  and,  taking  out  a  small  volume  bound 
in  green  and  gold,  read  to  her:  '"Marriage  is  a  high 


332  JfOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

and  holy  state,  and  intended  for  the  vast  majority  of 
mankind,  but  those  who  expand  and  merge  human 
love  in  the  divine,  espousing  their  souls  to  God  in 
a  life  of  celibacy,  tread  a  higher  and  holier  path,  and 
are  better  fitted  to  do  nobler  service  for  God  in  the 
cause  of  suffering  humanity.' ' 

"  Those  are  good  words,"  said  Bidiane,  with 
twitching  lips. 

"It  is  of  course  a  Catholic  view,"  said  Rose  ;  "you 
are  a  Protestant,  and  you  may  not  agree  perfectly 
with  it,  yet  I  wish  only  to  convince  you  that  if  one  is 
denied  the  companionship  of  one  that  is  beloved,  it 
is  not  well  to  say,  '  Everything  is  at  an  end.  I  am 
of  no  use  in  the  world.'  ' 

"  I  think  you  are  the  best  and  the  sweetest  woman 
that  I  ever  saw,"  said  Bidiane,  impulsively. 

"No,  no;  not  the  best,"  said  Rose,  in  accents  of 
painful  humility.  "  Do  not  say  it,  —  I  feel  myself  the 
greatest  of  sinners.  I  read  my  books  of  devotion,  I 
feel  myself  guilty  of  all,  —  even  the  blackest  of  crimes. 
It  seems  that  there  is  nothing  I  have  not  sinned  in 
my  thoughts.  I  have  been  blameless  in  nothing,  except 
that  I  have  not  neglected  the  baptism  of  children  in 
infancy." 

"  You  —  a  sinner  !  "  said  Bidiane,  in  profound  scep 
ticism.  "I  do  not  believe  it." 

"  None  are  pure  in  the  sight  of  our  spotless  Lord," 
said  Rose,  in  agitation  ;  "  none,  none.  We  can  only 


B I  DIANE    CALLS    ON  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE.      333 

try  to  be  so.  Let  me  repeat  to  you  one  more  line 
from  our  archbishop.  It  is  a  poem  telling  of  the 
struggle  of  souls,  of  the  search  for  happiness  that  is 
not  to  be  found  in  the  world.  This  short  line  is 
always  with  me.  I  cannot  reach  up  to  it,  I  can  only 
admire  it.  Listen,  dear  child,  and  remember  it  is  this 
only  that  is  important,  and  both  Protestant  and  Cath 
olic  can  accept  it  —  '  Walking  on  earth,  but  living 
with  God.'  ' 

Bidiane  flung  her  arms  about  her  neck.  "  Teach 
me  to  be  good  like  you  and  Mr.  Nimmo.  I  assure 
you  I  am  very  bad  and  impatient." 

"  My  dear  girl,  my  sister,"  murmured  Rose,  ten 
derly,  "  you  are  a  gift  and  I  accept  you.  Now  will  you 
not  tell  me  something  of  your  life  in  Paris?  Many 
things  were  not  related  in  your  letters." 


CHAPTER    III. 

TAKEN     UNAWARES. 

"  Who  can  speak 
The  mingled  passions  that  surprised  his  heart  ?  " 

THOMSON. 

BIDIANE  nothing  loath,  broke  into  a  vivacious  nar 
rative.  "  Ah,  that  Mr.  Nimmo,  I  just  idolize  him. 
How  much  he  has  done  for  me !  Just  figure  to  your 
self  what  a  spectacle  I  must  have  been  when  he  first 
saw  me.  I  was  ignorant,  — -as  ignorant  as  a  little  pig. 
I  knew  nothing.  He  asked  me  if  I  would  go  clown 
the  Bay  to  a  convent.  I  said,  quite  violently,  '  No,  I 
will  not.'  Then  he  went  home  to  Boston,  but  he  did 
not  give  me  up.  I  soon  received  a  message.  Would 
I  go  to  France  with  him  and  his  mother,  for  it  had 
been  decided  that  a  voyage  would  be  good  for  the 
little  Narcisse  ?  That  dazzled  me,  and  I  said  'yes.' 
I  left  the  Bay,  but  just  fancy  how  utterly  stupid,  how 
frightfully  from  out  of  the  woods  I  was.  I  will  give 
one  instance  :  When  my  uncle  put  me  on  the  steamer 
at  Yarmouth  it  was  late,  he  had  to  hurry  ashore.  He 
did  not  show  me  the  stateroom  prepared  for  me,  and 

334  • 


TAKEN   UNAWARES.  335 

I,  dazed  owl,  sat  on  the  deck  shivering  and  drawing 
my  cloak  about  me.  I  thought  I  had  paid  for  that 
one  tiny  piece  of  the  steamer  and  I  must  not  move 
from  it.  Then  a  kind  woman  came  and  took  me 
below." 

"  But  you  were  young,  you  had  never  travelled, 
mademoiselle." 

"  Don't  say  mademoiselle,  say  Bidiane,  —  please  do, 
I  would  love  it." 

"  Very  well,  Bidiane,  —  dear  little  Bidiane." 

The  girl  leaned  forward,  and  was  again  about  to 
embrace  her  hostess  with  fervent  arms,  but  suddenly 
paused  to  exclaim,  "  I  think  I  hear  wheels  !  " 

She  ran  to  one  of  the  open  windows.  "  Who  drives 
a  black  buggy,  —  no,  a  white  horse  with  a  long  tail  ?  " 

"  Agapit  LeNoir,"  said  Rose,  coming  to  stand 
beside  her. 

"  Oh,  how  is  he  ?  I  hate  to  see  him.  I  used  to  be 
so  rude,  but  I  suppose  he  has  forgiven  me.  Mrs. 
Nimmo  says  he  is  very  good,  still  I  do  not  think 
Mr.  Nimmo  cares  much  for  him." 

Rose  sighed.  That  was  the  one  stain  on  the 
character  of  the  otherwise  perfect  Vesper.  He  had 
never  forgiven  Agapit  for  striking  him. 

"Why  he  looks  quite  smart,"  Bidiane  rattled  on. 
"  Does  he  get  on  well  with  his  law  practice  ?  " 

"  Very  well  ;  but  he  works  hard  —  too  hard.  This 
horse  is  his  only  luxury." 


ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  I  detest  white  horses.  Why  didn't  he  get  a  dark 
one?" 

"  I  think  this  one  was  cheaper." 

"  Is  he  poor  ?  " 

"  Not  now,  but  he  is  economical.  He  saves  his 
money." 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  screw,  a  miser." 

"  No,  not  that,  —  he  gives  away  a  good  deal.  He 
has  had  a  hard  life,  has  my  poor  cousin,  and  now  he 
understands  the  trials  of  others." 

"  Poverty  is  tiresome,  but  it  is  sometimes  good  for 
one,"  said  Bidiane,  wisely. 

Rose's  white  teeth  gleamed  in  sudden  amuse 
ment.  "  Ah,  the  dear  little  parrot,  she  has  been 
well  trained." 

Bidiane  leaned  out  the  window.  There  was 
Agapit,  peering  eagerly  forward  from  the  hood  of 
his  carriage,  and  staring  up  with  some  of  the  old 
apprehensiveness  with  which  he  used  to  approach 
her. 

"What  a  dreadful  child  I  was,"  reflected  Bidiane, 
with  a  blush  of  shame.  "  He  is  yet  afraid  of  me." 

Agapit,  with  difficulty  averting  his  eyes  from  her 
round,  childish  face  and  its  tangle  of  reddish  hair, 
sprang  from  his  seat  and  fastened  his  horse  to  the 
post  sunk  in  the  grass  at  the  edge  of  the  lawn,  while 
Rose,  followed  by  Bidiane,  went  out  to  meet  him. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Rose,"  he  murmured,  taking  her 


TAKEN   UNAWARES.  337 

hand  in  his  own,  while  his  eyes  ran  behind  to  the 
waiting  Bidiane. 

The  girl,  ladylike  and  modest,  and  full  of  contri 
tion  for  her  former  misdeeds,  was  yet  possessed  by  a 
mischievous  impulse  to  find  out  whether  her  power 
over  the  burly,  youthful,  excitable  Agapit  extended 
to  this  thinner,  more  serious-looking  man,  with  the 
big  black  mustache  and  the  shining  eye-glasses. 

"  Ah,  fanatic,  Acadien  imbecile,"  she  said,  coolly 
extending  her  fingers,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again." 

Though  her  tone  was  reassuring,  Agapit  still 
seemed  to  be  overcome  by  some  emotion,  and  for 
a  few  seconds  did  not  recover  himself.  Then  he 
smiled,  looked  relieved,  and,  taking  a  step  nearer 
her,  bowed  profoundly.  "  When  did  you  arrive, 
mademoiselle  ? " 

"  But  you  knew  I  was  here,"  she  said,  gaily,  "  I 
saw  it  in  your  face  when  you  first  appeared." 

Agapit  dropped  his  eyes  nervously.  "  He  is  cer 
tainly  terribly  afraid  of  me,"  reflected  Bidiane  again ; 
then  she  listened  to  what  he  was  saying. 

"  The  Bay  whispers  and  chatters,  mademoiselle ; 
the  little  waves  that  kiss  the  shores  of  Sleeping 
Water  take  her  secrets  from  her  and  carry  them  up 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Weymouth  River  — 

"  You  have  a  telephone,  I  suppose,"  said  Bidiane, 
in  an  eminently  practical  tone  of  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  and  he  relapsed  into  silence. 


338  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Here  we  are  together,  we  three,"  said  Bidiane,  im 
pulsively.  "  How  I  wish  that  Mr.  Nimmo  could  see  us." 

Rose  lost  some  of  her  beautiful  color.  These  con 
tinual  references  to  her  lover  were  very  trying.  "  I 
will  leave  you  two  to  amuse  each  other  for  a  few 
minutes,  while  I  go  and  ask  Celina  to  make  us  some 
tea  a  Vanglaise" 

"I  should  not  have  said  that,"  exclaimed  Bidiane, 
gazing  after  her ;  "  how  easy  it  is  to  talk  too  much. 
Each  night,  when  I  go  to  bed,  I  lie  awake  thinking 
of  all  the  foolish  things  I  have  said  during  the  day, 
and  I  con  over  sensible  speeches  that  I  might  have 
uttered.  I  suppose  you  never  do  that  ? " 

"Why  not,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  you  are  older,  and  because  you  are 
so  clever.  Really,  I  am  quite  afraid  of  you,"  and 
she  demurely  glanced  at  him  from  under  her  curly 
eyelashes. 

"Once  you  were  not  afraid,"  he  remarked,  cau 
tiously. 

"  No  ;  but  now  you  must  be  very  learned." 

"  I  always  was  fond  of  study." 

"  Mr.  Nimmo  says  that  some  day  you  will  be  a 
judge,  and  then  probably  you  will  write  a  book. 
Will  you  ?  " 

"  Some  day,  perhaps.  At  present,  I  only  write 
short  articles  for  magazines  and  newspapers." 

"  How  charming  !     What  are  they  about  ?  " 


TAKEN   UNAWARES.  339 

"They  are  mostly  Acadien  and  historical." 

"  Do  you  ever  write  stories  —  love  stories  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Delicious  !     May  I  read  them  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  and  he  smiled.  "  You  would 
probably  be  too  much  amused.  You  would  think 
they  were  true." 

"  And  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  although  some  have  a  slight  foundation 
of  fact." 

Bidiane  stared  curiously  at  him,  opened  her  lips, 
closed  them  again,  set  her  small  white  teeth  firmly, 
as  if  bidding  them  stand  guard  over  some  audacious 
thought,  then  at  last  burst  out  with  it,  for  she  was 
still  excited  and  animated  by  her  journey,  and  was 
bubbling  over  with  delight  at  being  released  from  the 
espionage  of  strangers  to  whom  she  could  not  talk 
freely.  "  You  have  been  in  love,  of  course  ?  " 

Agapit  modestly  looked  at  his  boots. 

"  You  find  me  unconventional,"  cried  Bidiane,  in 
alarm.  "  Mrs.  Nimmo  says  I  will  never  get  over  it. 
I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do,  —  but  here,  at  least, 
on  the  Bay,  I  thought  it  would  not  so  much  matter 
Really,  it  was  a  consolation  in  leaving  Paris." 

"Mademoiselle,  it  is  not  that,"  he  said,  hesitat 
ingly.  "  I  assure  you,  the  question  has  been  asked 
before,  with  not  so  much  delicacy—  But  with 
whom  should  I  fall  in  love?" 


340  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  With  any  one.  It  must  be  a  horrible  sensation. 
I  have  never  felt  it,  but  I  cry  very  often  over  tales 
of  lovers.  Possibly  you  are  like  Madame  de  Foret, 
you  do  not  care  to  marry." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  waiting  until  she  does,  mademoi 
selle." 

"  I  suppose  you  could  not  tell  me,"  she  said,  in 
the  dainty,  coaxing  tones  of  a  child,  "  what  it  is  that 
separates  your  cousin  from  Mr.  Nimmo  ?  " 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  I  regret  to  say  that  I  cannot." 

"  Is  it  something  she  can  ever  get  over  ? " 

"  Possibly." 

"  You  don't  want  to  be  teased  about  it.  I  will 
talk  of  something  else ;  people  don't  marry  very 
often  after  they  are  thirty.  That  is  the  dividing 
line." 

Agapit  dragged  at  his  mustache  with  restless 
fingers. 

"You  are  laughing  at  me,  you  find  me  amusing," 
she  said,  with  a  sharp  look  at  him.      "  I  assure  you  I 
don't  mind  being  laughed  at.       I  hate  dull  people  — 
oh,   I  must  ask  you   if   you  know   that   I   am  quite 
Acadien  now  ? " 

"  Rose  has  told  me  something  of  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  She  says  that  you  read  my  letters, 
and  I  think  it  is  perfectly  sweet  in  you.  I  know 
what  you  have  done  for  me.  I  know,  you  need  not 
try  to  conceal  it.  It  was  you  that  urged  Mr.  Nimmo 


TAKEN   UNAWARES.  341 

not  to  give  me  up,  it  is  to  you  that  I  am  indebted  for 
my  glimpse  of  the  world.  I  assure  you  I  am  grateful. 
That  is  why  I  speak  so  freely  to  you.  You  are  a 
friend  and  also  a  relative.  May  we  not  call  ourselves 
cousins  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  mademoiselle,  —  I  am  honored,"  said 
Agapit,  in  a  stumbling  voice. 

"  You  are  not  used  to  me  yet.  I  overcome  you, 
but  wait  a  little,  you  will  not  mind  my  peculiarities, 
and  let  me  tell  you  that  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do 
for  you,  I  shall  be  so  glad.  I  could  copy  papers  or 
write  letters.  I  am  only  a  mouse  and  you  are  a  lion, 
yet  perhaps  I  could  bite  your  net  a  little." 

Agapit  straightened  himself,  and  stepped  out  rather 
more  boldly  as  they  went  to  and  fro  over  the  grass. 

"  1  seem  only  like  a  prattling,  silly  girl  to  you,"  she 
said,  humbly,  "yet  I  have  a  little  sense,  and  I  can 
write  a  good  hand  —  a  good  round  hand.  I  often 
used  to  assist  Mr.  Nimmo  in  copying  passages  from 
books." 

Agapit  felt  like  a  hero.  "  Some  day,  mademoiselle, 
I  may  apply  to  you  for  assistance.  In  the  meantime, 
I  thank  you." 

They  continued  their  slow  walk  to  and  fro.  Some 
times  they  looked  across  the  river  to  the  village, 
but  mostly  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  Agapit, 
with  acute  pleasure,  basked  in  the  light  of  Bidiane's 
admiring  glances. 


342  KOSK   A    CHARL1TTK. 

"  You  have  always  stayed  here,"  she  exclaimed  ; 
"you  did  not  desert  your  dear  Bay  as  I  did." 

"  But  for  a  short  time  only.  You  remember  that 
I  was  at  Laval  University  in  Quebec." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot  that.  Madame  de  Foret  wrote 
me.  Do  you  know,  I  thought  that  perhaps  you 
would  not  come  back.  However,  Mr.  Nimmo  was 
not  surprised  that  you  did." 

"There  are  a  great  many  young  men  out  in  the 
world,  mademoiselle.  I  found  few  people  who  were 
interested  in  me.  This  is  my  home,  and  is  not  one's 
home  the  best  place  to  earn  one's  living? " 

"  Yes ;  and  also  you  did  not  wish  to  go  too  far 
away  from  your  cousin.  I  know  your  devotion,  it 
is  quite  romantic.  She  adores  you,  I  easily  saw 
that  in  her  letters.  Do  you  know,  I  imagined  " 
and  she  lowered  her  voice,  and  glanced  over  her 
shoulder  — "  that  Mr.  Nimmo  wrote  to  her,  be 
cause  he  never  seemed  curious  about  my  letters 
from  her." 

"That  is  Mr.  Nimmo's  way,  mademoiselle." 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  they  do  not  write.  It  would  be 
such  a  pleasure  to  them  both.  I  know  that.  They 
cannot  deceive  me." 

"  But  she  is  not  engaged  to  him." 

"  If  you  reject  a  man,  you  reject  him,"  said  Bidiane, 
with  animation,  "  but  you  know  there  is  a  kind  of 
lingering  correspondence  that  decides  nothing.  If 


TAKEN   UATAWARES.  343 

the  affair  were  all  broken  off,  Mr.  Nimmo  would  not 
keep  Narcisse." 

Agapit  wrinkled  his  forehead.  "  True ;  yet  I 
assure  you  they  have  had  no  communication  except 
through  you  and  the  childish  scrawls  of  Narcisse." 

Bidiane  was  surprised.  "Does  he  not  send  her 
things  ? " 

"No,  mademoiselle." 

"  But  her  furniture  is  French." 

"  There  are  French  stores  in  the  States,  and  Rose 
travels  occasionally,  you  know." 

"  Hush,  —  she  is  coming  back.  Ah  !  the  adorable 
woman." 

Agapit  threw  his  advancing  cousin  a  glance  of 
affectionate  admiration,  and  went  to  assist  her  with 
the  tea  things. 

Bidiane  watched  him  putting  the  tray  on  the  table, 
and  going  to  meet  Celina,  who  was  bringing  out  a 
teapot  and  cups  and  saucers.  "  Next  to  Mr.  Nimmo, 
he  is  the  kindest  man  I  ever  saw,"  she  murmured, 
curling  herself  up  in  a  rattan  chair.  "  But  we  are 
not  talking,"  she  said,  a  few  minutes  later. 

Rose  and  Agapit  both  smiled  indulgently  at  her. 
Neither  of  them  talked  as  much  as  in  former  days. 
They  were  quieter,  more  subdued. 

"  Let  me  think  of  some  questions,"  said  the  girl. 
"  Are  you,  Mr.  LeNoir,  as  furious  an  Acadien  as  you 
used  to  be  ? " 


344  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Agapit  fixed  his  big  black  eyes  on  her,  and  began 
to  twist  the  ends  of  his  long  mustache.  "  Made 
moiselle,  since  I  have  travelled  a  little,  and  mingled 
with  other  men,  I  do  not  talk  so  loudly  and  vehe 
mently,  but  my  heart  is  still  the  same.  It  is  Acadie 
forever  with  me." 

"Ah,  that  is  right,"  she  said,  enthusiastically. 
"  Not  noisy  talk,  but  service  for  our  countrymen." 

"  Will  you  not  have  a  cup  of  tea,  and  also  tell  us 
how  you  became  an  Acadien  ? "  said  Agapit,  who 
seemed  to  divine  her  secret  thought. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you, —  yes,  I  will  do  both," 
and  Bidiane's  round  face  immediately  became  trans 
figured, —  the  freckles  almost  disappeared.  One  saw 
only  "the  tiger  dusk  and  gold  "  of  her  eyes,  and  her 
reddish  crown  of  hair.  "  I  will  tell  you  of  that  no 
blest  of  men,  that  angel,  who  swept  down  upon  the 
Bay,  and  bore  away  a  little  owl  in  his  pinions,  —  or 
talons,  is  it?  —  to  the  marvellous  city  of  Paris,  just 
because  he  wished  to  inspire  the  stupid  owl  with 
love  for  its  country." 

"  But  the  great-grandfather  of  the  eagle,  or, 
rather,  the  angel,  killed  the  great-grandfather  of 
the  owl,"  said  Agapit;  "do  not  forget  that,  made 
moiselle.  Will  you  have  a  biscuit  ? " 

"  Thank  you,  —  suppose  he  did,  that  does  not 
alter  the  delightfulness  of  his  conduct.  Who  takes 
account  of  naughty  grandfathers  in  this  prosaic  age  ? 


TAKEN   UNAWARES.  345 

No  one  but  Mr.  Nimmo.  And  do  we  not  put  away 
from  us — that  is,  society  people  do  —  all  those  who 
are  rough  and  have  not  good  manners  ?  Did  Mr. 
Nimmo  do  this  ?  No,  he  would  train  his  little  Aca- 
dien  owl.  The  first  night  we  arrived  in  Paris  he 
took  me  with  Narcisse  for  a  fifteen  minutes'  stroll 
along  the  Arcades  of  the  Rue  de  Rivoli.  I  was  over 
come.  We  had  just  arrived,  we  had  driven  through 
lighted  streets  to  a  magnificent  hotel.  The  bridges 
across  the  river  gleamed  with  lights.  I  thought  I 
must  be  in  heaven.  You  have  read  the  descriptions 
of  it  ? " 

"Of  Paris, — yes,"  said  Agapit,  dreamily. 

"  Every  one  was  speaking  French,  —  the  language 
that  I  detested.  I  was  dumb.  Here  was  a  great 
country,  a  great  people,  and  they  were  French.  I 
had  thought  that  all  the  world  outside  the  Bay  was 
English,  even  though  I  had  been  taught  differently 
at  school.  But  I  did  not  believe  my  teachers.  I 
told  stories,  I  thought  that  they  also  did.  But  to 
return  to  the  Rue  de  Rivoli, — there  were  the  shops, 
there  were  the  merchants.  Now  that  I  have  seen  so 
much  they  do  not  seem  great  things  to  me,  but  then 
—  ah !  then  they  were  palaces,  the  merchants  were 
kings  and  princes  offering  their  plate  and  jewels  and 
gorgeous  robes  for  sale. 

"  '  Choose,'  said  Mr.  Nimmo  to  Narcisse  and  to 
me,  '  choose  some  souvenir  to  the  value  of  three 


346  ROSE   A    CHARL1TTE. 

francs.'  I  stammered,  I  hesitated,  I  wished  every 
thing,  I  selected  nothing.  Little  Narcisse  laid  his 
finger  on  a  sparkling  napkin-ring.  I  could  not 
decide.  I  was  intoxicated,  and  Mr.  Nimmo  calmly 
conducted  us  home.  I  got  nothing,  because  I  could 
not  control  myself.  The  next  day,  and  for  many 
days,  Mr.  Nimmo  took  us  about  that  wonderful  city. 
It  was  all  so  ravishing,  so  spotless,  so  immense.  We 
did  not  visit  the  ugly  parts.  I  had  neat  and  suita 
ble  clothes.  I  was  instructed  to  be  quiet,  and  not 
to  talk  loudly  or  cry  out,  and  in  time  I  learned,  — 
though  at  first  I  very  much  annoyed  Mrs.  Nimmo. 
Never,  never,  did  her  son  lose  patience.  Madame  de 
Foret,  it  is  charming  to  live  in  a  peaceful,  splendid 
home,  where  there  are  no  loud  voices,  no  unseemly 
noises,  —  to  have  servants  everywhere,  even  to  push 
the  chair  behind  you  at  the  table." 

"  Yes,  if  one  is  born  to  it,"  said  Rose,  quietly. 

"  But  one  gets  born  to  it,  dear  madame.  In  a 
short  time,  I  assure  you,  I  put  on  airs.  I  straight 
ened  my  back,  I  no  longer  joked  with  the  servants. 
I  said,  quietly,  'Give  me  this.  Give  me  that,'  —  and 
I  disliked  to  walk.  I  wished  always  to  step  in  a 
carriage.  Then  Mr.  Nimmo  talked  to  me." 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Agapit,  jealously  and 
unexpectedly. 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Bidiane,  drawing  herself  up, 
and  speaking  in  her  grandest  manner,  "  I  beg  per- 


TAKEN  UNAWARES.  347 

mission  to  withhold  from  you  that  information.  You, 
I  see,  do  not  worship  my  hero  as  wildly  as  I  do.  I 
address  my  remarks  to  your  cousin,"  and  she  turned 
her  head  towards  Rose. 

They  both  laughed,  and  she  herself  laughed  mer 
rily  and  excitedly.  Then  she  hurried  on  :  "I  had 
a  governess  for  a  time,  then  afterwards  I  was  sent 
every  day  to  a  boarding-school  near  by  the  hotel 
where  we  lived.  I  was  taught  many  things  about 
this  glorious  country  of  France,  this  land  from  which 
my  forefathers  had  gone  to  Acadie.  Soon  I  began 
to  be  less  ashamed  of  my  nation.  Later  on  I  began  to 
be  proud.  Very  often  I  would  be  sent  for  to  go  to  the 
salon  (drawing-room).  There  would  be  strangers, 
—  gentlemen  and  ladies  to  whom  Mrs.  Nimmo  would 
introduce  me,  and  her  son  would  say,  '  This  is  a  little 
girl  from  Acadie.'  Immediately  I  would  be  smiled 
on,  and  made  much  of,  and  the  fine  people  would  say, 
'  Ah,  the  Acadiens  were  courageous,  - —  they  were  a 
brave  race,'  and  they  would  address  me  in  French, 
and  I  could  only  hang  my  head  and  listen  to  Mr. 
Nimmo,  who  would  remark,  quietly,  '  Bidiane  has 
lived  among  the  English,  —  she  is  just  learning  her 
own  language.' 

"Ah,  then  I  would  study.  I  took  my  French 
grammar  to  bed,  and  one  day  came  the  grand  revela 
tion.  I  of  course  had  always  attended  school  here  on 
the  Bay,  but  you  know,  dear  Madame  de  Foret,  how 


348  ROSE   A    CHARL1TTK. 

little  Acadien  history  is  taught  us.  Mr.  Nimmo  had 
given  me  a  history  of  our  own  people  to  read.  Some 
histories  are  dull,  but  this  one  I  liked.  It  was  late 
one  afternoon  ;  I  sat  by  my  window  and  read,  and  I 
came  to  a  story.  You,  I  daresay,  know  it,"  and  she 
turned  eagerly  to  Agapit. 

"  I  daresay,  mademoiselle,  if  I  were  to  hear  it  — 
"  It  is  of  those  three  hundred  Acadiens,  who  were 
taken  from  Prince  Edward  Island  by  Captain  Nich 
ols.  I  read  of  what  he  said  to  the  government,  '  My 
ship  is  leaking,  I  cannot  get  it  to  England.'  Yet  he 
was  forced  to  go,  you  know,  —  yet  let  me  have  the 
sad  pleasure  of  telling  you  that  I  read  of  their  arrival 
to  within  a  hundred  leagues  of  the  coast  of  England. 
The  ship  had  given  out,  it  was  going  down,  and  the 
captain  sent  for  the  priest  on  board,  —  at  this  point 
I  ran  to  the  fire,  for  daylight  faded.  With  eyes 
blinded  by  tears  I  finished  the  story,  —  the  priest 
addressed  his  people.  He  said  that  the  captain  had 
told  him  that  all  could  not  be  saved,  that  if  the 
Acadiens  would  consent  to  remain  quiet,  he  and 
his  sailors  would  seize  the  boats,  and  have  a  chance 
for  their  lives.  '  You  will  be  quiet,  my  dear  people,' 
said  the  priest.  'You  have  suffered  much, — you 
will  suffer  more,'  and  he  gave  them  absolution. 
I  shrieked  with  pain  when  I  read  that  they  were 
quiet,  very  quiet,  —  that  one  Acadien,  who  ventured 
in  a  boat,  was  rebuked  by  his  wife  so  that  he  stepped 


TAKEN  UNAWARES.  349 

contentedly  back  to  her  side.  Then  the  captain 
and  sailors  embarked,  they  set  out  for  the  shore,  and 
finally  reached  it  ;  and  the  Acadiens  remained  calmly 
on  board.  They  went  calmly  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea,  and  I  flung  the  book  far  from  me,  and  rushed 
down-stairs,  —  I  must  see  Mr.  Nimmo.  He  was  in 
the  salon  with  a  gentleman  who  was  to  dine  with 
him,  but  I  saw  only  my  friend.  I  precipitated 
myself  on  a  chair  beside  him.  '  Ah,  tell  me,  tell 
me  ! '  I  entreated,  '  is  it  all  true  ?  Were  they  mar 
tyrs,  —  these  countrymen  of  mine  ?  Were  they  pa 
tient  and  afflicted  ?  Is  it  their  children  that  I  have 
despised,  —  their  religion  that  I  have  mocked  ? ' 

" '  Yes,  yes,'  he  said,  gently,  '  but  you  did  not 
understand.' 

" '  I  understand,'  I  cried,  '  and  I  hate  the  English. 
I  will  no  longer  be  a  Protestant.  They  murdered 
my  forefathers  and  mothers.' 

"  He  did  not  reason  with  me  then,  —  he  sent  me 
to  bed,  and  for  six  days  I  went  every  morning  to 
mass  in  the  Madeleine.  Then  I  grew  tired,  because 
I  had  not  been  brought  up  to  it,  and  it  seemed 
strange  to  me.  That  was  the  time  Mr.  Nimmo  ex 
plained  many  things  to  me.  I  learned  that,  though 
one  must  hate  evil,  there  is  a  duty  of  forgiveness  - 
but  I  weary  you,"  and  she  sprang  up  from  her  chair. 
"  I  must  also  go  home  ;  my  aunt  will  wonder  where 
I  am.  I  shall  soon  see  you  both  again,  I  hope," 


350  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

and  waving  her  hand,  she  ran  lightly  towards  the 
gate. 

"  An  abrupt  departure,"  said  Agapit,  as  he  watched 
her  out  of  sight. 

"  She  is  nervous,  and  also  homesick  for  the  Nim- 
mos,"  said  Rose  ;  "  but  what  a  dear  child.  Her  let 
ters  have  made  her  seem  like  a  friend  of  years' 
standing.  Perhaps  we  should  have  kept  her  from 
lingering  on  those  stories  of  the  old  time." 

"Do  not  reproach  yourself,"  said  Agapit,  as  he 
took  another  piece  of  cake,  "  we  could  not  have  kept 
her  from  it.  She  was  just  about  to  cry, — she  is 
probably  crying  now,"  and  there  was  a  curious  satis 
faction  in  his  voice. 

"Are  you  not  well  to-day,  Agapit?"  asked  Rose, 
anxiously. 

"Man  Dieu,  yes,  —  what  makes  you  think  other 
wise  ? " 

"You  seem  subdued,  almost  dull." 

Agapit  immediately  endeavored  to  take  on  a  more 
sprightly  air.  "  It  is  that  child,  —  she  is  overcom 
ing.  I  was  not  prepared  for  such  life,  such  anima 
tion.  She  cannot  write  as  she  speaks." 

"No;  her  letters  were  stiff." 

"Without  doubt,  Mr.  Nimmo  has  sent  her  here 
to  be  an  amiable  distraction  for  you,"  said  Agapit. 
"  He  is  afraid  that  you  are  getting  too  holy,  too 
far  beyond  him.  He  sends  this  Parisian  butterfly 


TAKEN   UNAWARES.  351 

to  amuse  you.  He  has  plenty  of  money,  he  can 
indulge  his  whims." 

His  tone  was  bitter,  and  Rose  forbore  to  answer 
him.  He  was  so  good,  this  cousin  of  hers,  and  yet 
his  poverty  and  his  long-continued  struggle  to  ob 
tain  an  education  had  somewhat  soured  him,  and  he 
had  not  quite  fulfilled  the  promise  of  his  earlier 
years.  He  was  also  a  little  jealous  of  Vesper. 

If  Vesper  had  been  as  generous  towards  him  as  he 
was  towards  other  people,  Agapit  would  have  kept 
up  his  old  admiration  for  him.  As  it  was,  they  both 
possessed  indomitable  pride  along  different  lines,  and 
all  through  these  years  not  a  line  of  friendly  corre 
spondence  had  passed  between  them,  —  they  had  kept 
severely  apart. 

But  for  this  pride,  Rose  would  have  been  allowed 
to  share  all  that  she  had  with  her  adopted  brother, 
and  would  not  have  been  obliged  to  stand  aside  and, 
with  a  heart  wrung  with  compassion,  see  him  suffer 
for  the  lack  of  things  that  she  might  easily  have 
provided. 

However,  he  was  getting  on  better  now.  He  had 
a  large  number  of  clients,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
make  a  good  living  for  himself. 

They  talked  a  little  more  of  Bidiane's  arrival,  that 
had  made  an  unusual  commotion  in  their  quiet  lives, 
then  Agapit,  having  lingered  longer  than  usual,  hur 
ried  back  to  his  office  and  his  home,  in  the  town  of 


352  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

Weymouth,  that  was  some  miles  distant  from  Sleep 
ing  Water. 

A  few  hours  later,  Bidiane  laid  her  tired,  agitated 
head  on  her  pillow,  after  putting  up  a  very  fervent 
and  Protestant  petition  that  something  might  enable 
her  to  look  into  the  heart  of  her  Catholic  friend, 
Rose  a  Charlitte,  and  discover  what  the  mysterious 
obstacle  was  that  prevented  her  from  enjoying  a 
happy  union  with  Mr.  Nimmo. 


CHAPTER  TV. 

AN    UNKNOWN    IRRITANT. 

"  II  est  de  ces  longs  jours  d'indicible  malaise 
Ou  Ton  voudrait  dormir  du  lourd  sommeil  des  morts, 
De  ces  heures  d'angoisse  ou.  Pexisterice  pese 
Sur  Tame  et  sur  le  corps." 

Two  or  three  weeks  went  by,  and,  although  Bid- 
iane's  headquarters  were  nominally  at  the  inn,  she 
visited  the  horseshoe  cottage  morning,  noon,  and 
night. 

Rose  always  smiled  when  she  heard  the  rustling  of 
her  silk-lined  skirts,  and  often  murmured : 

"  Sa  robe  fait  froufrou,  froufrou, 
Ses  petits  pieds  font  toe,  toe,  toe." 

"  I  wonder  how  long  she  is  going  to  stay  here  ?  " 
said  Agapit,  one  day,  to  his  cousin. 

"  She  does  not  know,  —  she  obeys  Mr.  Nimmo 
blindly,  although  sometimes  she  chatters  of  earning 
her  own  living." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  would  permit  that,"  said  Agapit, 
hastily. 

"  Nor  I,  but  he  does  not  tell  her  so." 
353 


354  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

"  He  is  a  kind  of  Grand  Monarque  among  you 
women.  He  speaks,  and  you  listen  ;  and  now  that 
Bidiane  has  broken  the  ice  and  we  talk  more  freely 
of  him,  I  may  say  that  I  do  not  approve  of  his  keep 
ing  your  boy  any  longer,  although  it  is  a  foolish 
thing  for  me  to  mention,  since  you  have  never  asked 
my  advice  on  the  subject." 

"  My  dear  brother,"  said  Rose,  softly/"  in  this  one 
thing  I  have  not  agreed  with  you,  because  you  are 
not  a  mother,  and  cannot  understand.  I  feared  to 
bring  back  my  boy  when  he  was  delicate,  lest  he 
should  die  of  the  separation  from  Mr.  Nimmo.  It 
was  better  for  me  to  cry  myself  to  sleep  for  many 
nights  than  for  me  to  have  him  for  a  few  weeks,  and 
then,  perhaps,  lay  his  little  body  in  the  cold  ground. 
Where  would  then  be  my  satisfaction  ?  And  now 
that  he  is  strong,  I  console  myself  with  the  thought 
of  the  fine  schools  that  he  attends,  I  follow  him 
every  hour  of  the  day,  through  the  letters  that  Mr. 
Nimmo  sends  to  Bidiane.  As  I  dust  my  room  in 
the  morning,  I  hold  conversations  with  him. 

"  I  say,  '  How  goes  the  Latin,  little  one,  and  the 
Greek  ?  They  are  hard,  but  do  not  give  up.  Some 
day  thou  wilt  be  a  clever  man.'  All  the  time  I  talk 
to  him.  I  tell  him  of  every  happening  on  the  Bay. 
Naturally  I  cannot  put  all  this  in  my  letters  to  him, 
that  are  few  and  short  on  account  of  —  well  you  know 
why  I  do  not  write  too  much.  Agapit,  I  do  not 


AN   UNKNOWN  IRRITANT.  355 

dare  to  bring  him  back.  He  gives  that  dear  young 
man  an  object  in  life ;  he  also  interests  his  mother, 
who  now  loves  me,  through  my  child.  I  speak  of  the 
schools,  and  yet  it  is  not  altogether  for  that,  for  have 
we  not  a  good  college  for  boys  here  on  the  Bay  ? 
It  is  something  higher.  It  is  for  the  good  of  souls 
that  he  stays  away.  Not  yet,  not  yet,  can  I  recall 
him.  It  would  not  seem  right,  and  I  cannot  do 
what  is  wrong ;  also  there  is  his  father." 

Agapit,  with  a  resigned  gesture,  drew  on  his  gloves. 
He  had  been  making  a  short  call  and  was  just  about 
to  return  home. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  inn  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

"  Why  should  I  call  there  ?  "  he  said,  a  trifle  irri 
tably.  "  I  have  not  the  time  to  dance  attendance  on 
young  girls." 

Rose  was  lost  in  gentle  amazement  at  Agapit' s  re 
cent  attitude  towards  Bidiane.  Her  mind  ran  back  to 
the  long  winter  and  summer  evenings  when  he  had 
come  to  her  house,  and  had  sat  for  hours  reading  the 
letters  from  Paris.  He  had  taken  a  profound  interest 
in  the  little  renegade.  Step  by  step  he  had  followed 
her  career.  He  had  felt  himself  in  a  measure  respon 
sible  for  the  successful  issue  of  the  venture  in  taking 
her  abroad.  And  had  he  not  often  spoken  delight 
edly  of  her  return,  and  her  probable  dissemination 
among  the  young  people  of  the  stock  of  new  ideas 
that  she  would  be  sure  to  bring  with  her  ? 


ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

This  was  just  what  she  had  done.  She  had  en 
larged  the  circle  of  her  acquaintance,  and  every  one 
liked  her,  every  one  admired  her.  Day  after  day  she 
flashed  up  and  down  the  Bay,  on  the  bicycle  that  she 
had  brought  with  her  from  Paris,  and,  as  she  flew  by 
the  houses,  even  the  old  women  left  their  windows 
and  hobbled  to  the  door  to  catch  a  gay  salutation 
from  her. 

Only  Agapit  was  dissatisfied,  only  Agapit  did  not 
praise  her,  and  Rose  on  this  day,  as  she  stood  wist 
fully  looking  into  his  face,  carried  on  an  internal  so 
liloquy.  It  must  be  because  she  represents  Mr. 
Nimmo.  She  has  been  educated  by  him,  she  reveres 
him.  He  has  only  lent  her  to  the  Bay,  and  will  some 
day  take  her  away,  and  Agapit,  who  feels  this,  is  jeal 
ous  because  he  is  rich,  and  because  he  will  not  for 
give.  It  is  strange  that  the  best  of  men  and  women 
are  so  human  ;  but  our  dear  Lord  will  some  day  melt 
their  hearts  ;  and  Rose,  who  had  never  disliked  any 
one  and  had  not  an  enemy  in  the  world,  checked  a 
sigh  and  endeavored  to  turn  her  thoughts  to  some 
more  agreeable  subject. 

Agapit,  however,  still  stood  before  her,  and  while 
he  was  there  it  was  difficult  to  think  of  anything  else. 
Then  he  presently  asked  a  distracting  question,  and 
one  that  completely  upset  her  again,  although  it  was 
put  in  a  would-be  careless  tone  of  voice. 

"  Does  the  Poirier  boy  go  much  to  the  inn  ?  " 


AN   UNKNOWN  IRRITANT.  357 

Rose  tried  to  conceal  her  emotion,  but  it  was  hard  for 
her  to  do  so,  as  she  felt  that  she  had  just  been  afforded 
a  painful  lightning  glance  into  Agapit's  mind.  He 
felt  that  he  was  growing  old.  Bidiane  was  associat 
ing  with  the  girls  and  young  men  who  had  been  mere 
children  five  years  before.  The  Poirier  boy,  in  par 
ticular,  had  grown  up  with  amazing  rapidity  and  pre- 
cociousness.  He  was  handsomer,  far  handsomer  than 
Agapit  had  ever  been,  he  was  also  very  clever,  and 
very  much  made  of  on  account  of  his  being  the  most 
distinguished  pupil  in  the  college  of  Sainte-Anne,  that 
was  presided  over  by  the  Eudist  fathers  from  France. 

"  Agapit,"  she  said,  suddenly,  and  in  sweet,  patient 
alarm,  "  are  we  getting  old,  you  and  I  ?  " 

"  We  shall  soon  be  thirty,"  he  said,  gruffly,  and  he 
turned  away. 

Rose  had  never  before  thought  much  on  the  sub 
ject  of  her  age.  Whatever  traces  the  slow,  painful 
years  had  left  on  her  inner  soul,  there  were  no  reveal 
ing  marks  on  the  outer  countenance  of  her  body. 
Her  glass  showed  her  still  an  unruffled,  peaceful 
face,  a  delicate  skin,  an  eye  undimmed,  and  the  same 
beautiful  abundance  of  shining  hair. 

"  But,  Agapit,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "this  is  absurd. 
We  are  in  our  prime.  Only  you  are  obliged  to  wear 
glasses.  And  even  if  we  were  old,  it  would  not  be  a 
terrible  thing  —  there  is  too  much  praise  of  youth. 
It  is  a  charming  time,  and  yet  it  is  a  time  of  follies. 


358  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

As  for  me,  I  love  the  old  ones.  Only  as  we  grow 
older  do  we  find  rest." 

"The  follies  of  youth,"  repeated  Agapit,  sarcastic 
ally,  "  yes,  such  follies  as  we  have  had,  —  the  racking 
anxiety  to  find  food  to  put  in  one's  mouth,  to  find 
sticks  for  the  fire,  books  for  the  shelf.  Yes,  that  is 
fine  folly.  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  sigh  for  age." 

Rose  followed  him  to  the  front  door,  where  he  stood 
on  the  threshold  and  looked  down  at  the  river. 

"  Some  days  I  wish  I  were  there,"  he  said,  wearily. 

Rose  had  come  to  the  end  of  her  philosophy,  and 
in  real  alarm  she  examined  his  irritated,  disheartened 
face.  "  I  believe  that  you  are  hungry,"  she  said  at 
last. 

"  No,  I  am  not,  —  I  have  a  headache.  I  was  up 
all  last  night  reading  a  book  on  Commercial  Law.  I 
could  not  eat  to-day,  but  I  am  not  hungry." 

"You  are  starving  —  come,  take  off  your  gloves," 
she  said,  peremptorily.  "  You  shall  have  such  a  fine 
little  dinner.  I  know  what  Celina  is  preparing,  and 
I  will  assist  her  so  that  you  may  have  it  soon.  Go 
lie  down  there  in  the  sitting-room." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  stay,"  said  Agapit,  disagreeably  ; 
"  I  am  like  a  bear." 

"The  first  true  word  that  you  have  spoken,"  she 

said,  shaking  a  finger  at  him.      "  You  are  not  like  my 

good  Agapit  to-day.      See,  I  will  leave  you  for  a  time 

-  Jovite,  Jovite,"  and  she  went  to  the  back  door  and 


AN   UNKNOWN  IRRITANT.  359 

waved  her  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  stable.  "  Go 
take  out  Monsieur  LeNoir's  horse.  He  stays  to 
dinner." 

After  dinner  she  persuaded  him  to  go  down  to  the 
inn  with  her.  Bidiane  was  in  the  parlor,  sitting  be 
fore  a  piano  that  Vesper  had  had  sent  from  Boston  for 
her.  Two  young  Acadien  girls  were  beside  her,  and 
when  they  were  not  laughing  and  exchanging  jokes, 
they  sang  French  songs,  the  favorite  one  being  "  Un 
Canadicn  Errant"  to  which  they  returned  over  and 
over  again. 

Several  shy  young  captains  from  schooners  in  the 
Bay  were  sitting  tilted  back  on  chairs  on  the  ve 
randa,  each  one  with  a  straw  held  between  his  teeth 
to  give  him  countenance.  Agapit  joined  them,  while 
Rose  went  in  the  parlor  and  assisted  the  girls  with 
their  singing.  She  did  not  feel  much  older  than 
they  did.  It  was  curious  how  this  question  of  age 
oppressed  some  people ;  and  she  glanced  through 
the  window  at  Agapit' s  now  reasonably  contented 
face. 

"  I  am  glad  you  came  with  him,"  whispered  Bidi 
ane,  mischievously.  "  He  avoids  me  now,  and  I  am 
quite  afraid  of  him.  The  poor  man,  he  thought  to 
find  me  a  blue-stocking,  discussing  dictionaries  and 
encyclopaedias  ;  he  finds  me  empty-headed  and  silly,  so 
he  abandons  me  to  the  younger  set,  although  I  admire 
him  so  deeply.  You,  at  least,  will  never  give  me 


360  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

up,"  and  she  sighed  and  laughed  at  the  same  time, 
and  affectionately  squeezed  Rose's  hand. 

Rose  laughed  too.  She  was  becoming  more  light- 
hearted  under  Bidiane's  half-nonsensical,  half-sensible 
influence,  and  the  two  young  Acadien  girls  politely 
averted  their  surprised  eyes  from  the  saint  who  would 
condescend  to  lay  aside  for  a  minute  her  crown  of 
martyrdom.  All  the  Bay  knew  that  she  had  had  some 
trouble,  although  they  did  not  know  what  it  was. 


CHAPTER   V. 

BIDIANE    PLAYS    AN    OVERTURE. 

"  I've  tried  the  force  of  every  reason  on  him, 
Soothed  and  caressed,  been  angry,  soothed  again." 

ADDISON. 

A  FEW  days  later,  Bidiane  happened  to  be  caught 
in  a  predicament,  when  none  of  her  new  friends  were 
near,  and  she  was  forced  to  avail  herself  of  Agapit's 
assistance. 

She  had  been  on  her  wheel  nearly  to  Weymouth 
to  make  a  call  on  one  of  her  numerous  and  newly 
acquired  girl  friends.  Merrily  she  was  gliding  home 
ward,  and  being  on  a  short  stretch  of  road  bounded 
by  hay-fields  that  contained  no  houses,  and  fancying 
that  no  one  was  near  her,  she  lifted  up  her  voice  in  a 
saucy  refrain,  "  Ulwmme  qui  m'aura,  il  ri aura  pas 
tout  ce  qiiil  voudra"  (The  man  that  gets  me,  will 
not  get  all  he  wants). 

"  La  femme  qui  wiaura,  elle  riaura  pas  tout  ce 
qu'  elle  voudra "  (The  woman  that  gets  me,  she'll 
not  get  all  she  wants),  chanted  Agapit,  who  was 
coming  behind  in  his  buggy. 

361 


362  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

Suddenly  the  girl's  voice  ceased  ;  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  there  had  been  a  rip,  a  sudden  evacuation 
of  air  from  one  of  the  rubber  tubes  on  her  wheel, 
and  she  had  sprung  to  the  road. 

"  Good  afternoon,"  said  Agapit,  driving  up,  "you 
have  punctured  a  tire." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  in  dismay,  "the  wretched 
thing !  If  I  knew  which  wicked  stone  it  was  that 
did  it,  I  would  throw  it  into  the  Bay." 

"What  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know.     I  wish  I  had  leather  tires." 

"  I  will  take  you  to  Sleeping  Water,  mademoiselle, 
if  you  wish." 

"But  I  do  not  care  to  cause  you  that  trouble," 
and  she  gazed  mischievously  and  longingly  up  arid 
down  the  road. 

"  It  will  not  be  a  trouble,"  he  said,  gravely. 

"  Anything  is  a  trouble  that  one  does  not  enjoy." 

"  But  there  is  duty,  mademoiselle." 

"Ah,  yes,  duty,  dear  duty,"  she  said,  making  a 
face.  "  I  have  been  instructed  to  love  it,  therefore 
I  accept  your  offer.  How  fortunate  for  me  that  you 
happened  to  be  driving  by !  Almost  every  one  is 
haying.  What  shall  we  do  with  the  wheel  ? " 

"  We  can  perhaps  lash  it  on  behind.  I  have  some 
rope.  No,  it  is  too  large.  Well,  we  can  at  least 
wheel  it  to  the  post-office  in  Belliveau's  Cove,  —  or 
stay,  give  me  your  wrench.  I  will  take  off  the  wheel, 


B I  DIANE  PLAYS  AN  OVERTURE.  363 

carry  it  to  Meteghan  River,  and  have  it  mended.  I 
am  going  to  Che"ticamp  to-night.  To-morrow  I  will 
call  for  it  and  bring  it  to  you." 

"  Oh,  you  are  good,  —  I  did  not  know  that  there 
is  a  repair  shop  at  Meteghan  River." 

"  There  is,  — they  even  make  wheels." 

"  But  the  outside  world  does  not  know  that.  The 
train  conductor  told  that  if  anything  went  wrong  with 
my  bicycle,  I  would  have  to  send  it  to  Yarmouth." 

"The  outside  world  does  not  know  of  many  things 
that  exist  in  Clare.  Will  you  get  into  the  buggy, 
mademoiselle  ?  I  will  attend  to  this." 

Bidiane  meekly  ensconced  herself  under  the  hood, 
and  took  the  reins  in  her  hands.  "  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  the  remains  ? "  she  asked,  when 
Agapit  put  the  injured  wheel  in  beside  her. 

"  We  might  leave  them  at  Madame  LeBlanc's," 
and  he  pointed  to  a  white  house  in  the  distance. 
"  She  will  send  them  to  you  by  some  passing  cart." 

"  That  is  a  good  plan,  —  she  is  quite  a  friend  of 
mine." 

"  I  will  go  on  foot,  if  you  will  drive  my  horse." 

They  at  once  set  out,  Bidiane  driving,  and  Agapit 
walking  silently  along  the  grassy  path  at  the  side  of 
the  road. 

The  day  was  tranquil,  charming,  and  a  perfect 
specimen  of  "the  divine  weather"  that  Saint-Mary's 
Bay  is  said  to  enjoy  in  summer.  Earlier  in  the 


364  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

afternoon  there  had  been  a  soft  roll  of  pearl  gray 
fog  on  the  Bay,  in  and  out  of  which  the  schooners 
had  been  slipping  like  phantom  ships.  Now  it  had 
cleared  away,  and  the  long  blue  sweep  of  water  was 
open  to  them.  They  could  plainly  see  the  opposite 
shores  of  long  Digby  Neck,  — each  fisherman's  cot 
tage,  each  comfortable  farmhouse,  each  bit  of  forest 
sloping  to  the  water's  edge.  Over  these  hills  hung 
the  sun,  hot  and  glowing,  as  a  sun  should  be  in  hay 
ing  time.  On  Digby  Neck  the  people  were  probably 
making  hay.  Here  about  them  there  had  been  a 
general  desertion  of  the  houses  for  work  in  the  fields. 
Men,  women,  and  children  were  up  on  the  slopes  on 
their  left,  and  down  on  the  banks  on  their  right,  the 
women's  cotton  dresses  shining  in  gay  spots  of  color 
against  the  green  foliage  of  the  evergreen  and  hard 
wood  trees  that  grew  singly  or  in  groups  about  the 
extensive  fields  of  grass. 

Madame  LeBlanc  was  not  at  home,  so  Agapit 
pinned  a  note  to  the  bicycle,  and  left  it  standing 
outside  her  front  gate  with  the  comfortable  assur 
ance  that,  although  it  might  be  the  object  of  curious 
glances,  no  one  would  touch  it  until  the  return  of 
the  mistress  of  the  house. 

Then  he  entered  the  buggy,  and,  with  one  glance 
into  Bidiane's  eyes,  which  were  dancing  with  mer 
riment,  he  took  the  reins  from  her  and  drove  on 
briskly. 


B I  DIANE   PLAYS  AN  OVERTURE.  365 

She  stared  at  the  magnificent  panorama  of  purple 
hills  and  shining  water  spread  out  before  them,  and, 
remembering  the  company  that  she  was  in,  tried  to 
concentrate  her  attention  on  the  tragic  history  of 
her  countrymen.  Her  most  earnest  effort  was  in 
vain  ;  she  could  not  do  so,  and  she  endeavored 
to  get  further  back,  and  con  over  the  romantic 
exploits  of  Champlain  and  De  Monts,  whose  oddly 
shaped  ships  had  ploughed  these  waters  ;  but  here 
again  she  failed.  Her  mind  came  back,  always 
irresistibly  back,  from  the  ancient  past  to  the  man 
of  modern  times  seated  beside  her. 

She  was  sorry  that  he  did  not  like  her ;  she  had 
tried  hard  to  please  him.  He  really  was  wiser  than 
any  one  she  knew  ;  could  she  not  bring  about  a 
better  understanding  with  him  ?  If  he  only  knew 
how  ignorant  she  felt,  how  anxious  she  was  to  learn, 
perhaps  he  would  not  be  so  hard  on  her. 

It  was  most  unfortunate  that  she  should  have  had 
on  her  bicycling  dress.  She  had  never  heard  him 
speak  against  the  wheel  as  a  means  of  exercise,  yet 
she  felt  intuitively  that  he  did  not  like  it.  He 
adored  modest  women,  and  in  bicycling  they  were 
absolutely  forced  to  occasionally  show  their  ankles. 
Gradually  and  imperceptibly  she  drew  her  trim- 
gaitered  feet  under  her  blue  skirt  ;  then  she  put  up 
a  cautious  hand  to  feel  that  her  jaunty  sailor  hat 
was  set  straight  on  her  coils  of  hair.  Had  he  heard, 


366  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

she  wondered,  that  six  other  Acadien  girls,  inspired 
by  her  example,  were  to  have  wheels  ?  He  would 
think  that  she  had  set  the  Bay  crazy.  Perhaps  he 
regarded  it  as  a  misfortune  that  she  had  ever  come 
back  to  it. 

If  he  were  any  other  man  she  would  be  furiously 
angry  with  him.  She  would  not  speak  to  him  again. 
And,  with  an  abrupt  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  she 
watched  the  squawking  progress  of  a  gull  from  the 
Bay  back  to  the  woods,  and  then  said,  impulsively, 
"  It  is  going  to  rain." 

Agapit  came  out  of  his  reverie  and  murmured  an 
assent.  Then  he  looked  again  into  her  yellowish 
brown,  certainly  charming  eyes  when  full  of  sunlight, 
as  they  were  at  present  from  their  unwinking  stare 
at  the  bright  sky. 

"  Up  the  Bay,  Digby  Neck  was  our  barometer," 
she  said,  thoughtfully.  "  When  it  grew  purple,  we 
were  to  have  rain.  Here  one  observes  the  gulls,  and 
the  sign  never  fails,  —  a  noisy  flight  is  rain  within 
twenty-four  hours.  The  old  gull  is  telling  the 
young  ones  to  stay  back  by  the  lake  in  the  forest, 
I  suppose." 

Agapit  tried  to  shake  off  his  dreaminess  and  to 
carry  on  a  conversation  with  her,  but  failed  dismally, 
until  he  discovered  that  she  was  choking  with  sup 
pressed  laughter. 

"  Oh,  pardon,  pardon,  monsieur ;  I  was  thinking  — 


BIDIANE   PLAYS  AN  OVERTURE.  367 

ah !  how  delicious  is  one's  surprise  at  some  things 
-  I  am  thinking  how  absurd.  You  that  I  fancied 
would  be  a  brother  —  you  almost  as  angelic  as  Mr. 
Nimmo  —  you  do  not  care  for  me  at  all.  You  try 
so  hard,  but  I  plague  you,  I  annoy.  But  what  will 
you  ?  I  cannot  make  myself  over.  I  talk  all  the 
Acadienism  that  I  can,  but  one  cannot  forever 
linger  on  the  old  times.  You  yourself  say  that  one 
should  not." 

"So  you  think,  mademoiselle,  that  I  dislike  you?" 

"  Think  it,  my  dear  sir,  —  I  know  it.  All  the  Bay 
knows  it." 

"Then  all  the  Bay  is  mistaken  ;  I  esteem  you  highly." 

"Actions  speak  louder  than  words,"  and  her  teas 
ing  glance  played  about  his  shining  glasses.  "  In 
order  to  be  polite  you  perjure  yourself." 

"  Mademoiselle  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  so  terribly  plain-spoken,"  she 
said,  nodding  her  head  shrewdly,  yet  childishly. 
"  But  I  understand  perfectly  that  you  think  I  have 
a  feather  for  a  brain.  You  really  cannot  stoop  to 
converse  with  me.  You  say,  '  Oh,  that  deceived  Mr. 
Nimmo  !  He  thinks  he  has  accomplished  a  wonder 
ful  thing.  He  says,  "  Come  now,  see  what  I  have 
done  for  a  child  of  the  Bay ;  I  will  send  her  back 
to  you.  Fall  down  and  worship  her." 

Agapit  smiled  despite  himself.  "  Mademoiselle, 
you  must  not  make  fun  of  yourself." 


368  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

"  But  why  not  ?  It  is  my  chief  amusement.  I  am 
the  most  ridiculous  mortal  that  ever  lived,  and  I 
know  how  foolish  I  am  ;  but  why  do  you  not  exer 
cise  your  charity  ?  You  are,  I  hear,  kind  and  for 
bearing  with  the  worst  specimens  of  humanity  on 
the  Bay.  Why  should  you  be  severe  with  me?" 

Agapit  winced  as  if  she  had  pinched  him.  "  What 
do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Already  it  is  known  that  you  avoid  me,"  she 
continued,  airily ;  "  you  who  are  so  much  respected. 
I  should  like  to  have  your  good  opinion,  and,  ridicu 
lous  as  I  am,  you  know  that  I  am  less  so  than  I  used 
to  be." 

She  spoke  with  a  certain  dignity,  and  Agapit  was 
profoundly  touched.  "  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  I  am  ashamed  of  myself.  You  do  not 
understand  me,  and  I  assert  again  that  I  do  not  dis 
like  you." 

"Then  why  don't  you  come  to  see  me?"  she 
asked,  pointedly. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  blazed 
excitedly.  "  Do  not  urge  the  question.  However, 
I  will  come  —  yes,  I  will.  You  shall  not  complain 
of  me  in  future." 

Bidiane  felt  slightly  subdued,  and  listened  in 
silence  to  his  energetic  remarks  suddenly  addressed 
to  the  horse,  who  had  taken  advantage  of  his  mas 
ter's  wandering  attention  by  endeavoring  to  draw 


B /DIANE   PLAYS  AN  OVERTURE.  369 

the  buggy  into  a  ditch  where  grew  some  luscious 
bunches  of  grass. 

"There  comes  Pius  Poirier,"  she  said,  after  a 
time. 

The  young  Acadien  was  on  horseback.  His  stolid, 
fine-featured  face  was  as  immovable  as  marble,  as  he 
jogged  by,  but  there  was  some  play  between  his  vio 
let  eyes  and  Bidiane's  tawny  ones  that  Agapit  did 
not  catch,  but  strongly  suspected. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  speak  to  him  ? "  he  inquired, 
coldly,  when  Bidiane  stretched  her  neck  outside  the 
buggy  to  gaze  after  him. 

"  No,"  she  said,  composedly,  "  I  only  want  to  see 
how  he  sits  his  horse.  He  is  my  first  admirer,"  she 
added,  demurely,  but  with  irrepressible  glee. 

"  Indeed,  —  I  should  fancy  that  mademoiselle 
might  have  had  several." 

"  What,  —  and  I  am  only  seventeen  ?  You  are 
crazy,  my  dear  sir,  —  I  am  only  beginning  that  sort 
of  thing.  It  is  very  amusing  to  have  young  men 
come  to  see  you  ;  although,  of  course,"  she  inter 
polated,  modestly,  "  I  shall  not  make  a  choice  for 
some  years  yet." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  said  her  companion,  stiffly. 

"  I  say  I  have  never  had  an  admirer  ;  yet  some 
times  gay  young  men  would  stare  at  me  in  the  street, 
- 1  suppose  on  account  of  this  red  hair,  —  and  Mr. 
Nimmo  would  be  very  much  annoyed  with  them." 


370  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  A  city  is  a  wicked  place  ;  it  is  well  that  you  have 
come  home." 

"With  that  I  console  myself  when  I  am  some 
times  lonely  for  Paris,"  said  Bidiane,  wistfully.  "  I 
long  to  see  those  entrancing  streets  and  parks,  and 
to  mingle  with  the  lively  crowds  of  people  ;  but  I  say 
to  myself  what  Mr.  Nimmo  often  told  me,  that  one 
can  be  as  happy  in  one  place  as  in  another,  and  home 
is  the  best  of  all  to  keep  the  heart  fresh.  '  Bidiane,' 
he  said,  one  day,  when  I  was  extolling  the  beauties 
of  Paris,  '  I  would  give  it  all  for  one  glimpse  of  the 
wind-swept  shores  of  your  native  Bay.'  ' 

"  Ah,  he  still  thinks  that  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  though  I  never  after  heard  him  say 
anything  like  it.  I  only  know  his  feelings  through 
his  mother." 

Agapit  turned  the  conversation  to  other  subjects. 
He  never  cared  to  discuss  Vesper  Nimmo  for  any 
length  of  time. 

When  they  reached  the  Sleeping  Water  Inn,  Bidi 
ane  hospitably  invited  him  to  stay  to  supper. 

"  No,  thank  you,  —  I  must  hurry  on  to  Cheti- 
camp." 

"  Good-by,  then  ;  you  were  kind  to  bring  me 
home.  Shall  we  not  be  better  friends  in  future?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Agapit,  hurriedly.  "  I  apologize, 
mademoiselle,"  and  jumping  into  his  buggy,  he  drove 
quickly  away. 


BID  I  A  NE   PLAYS   AN  O  VER  TURE.  3  7 1 

Bidiane's  gay  face  clouded.  "You  are  not  "very 
polite  to  me,  sir.  Sometimes  you  smile  like  a  sun 
beam,  and  sometimes  you  glower  like  a  rain-cloud, 
but  I'll  find  out  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  if  it 
takes  me  a  year.  It  is  very  discomposing  to  be 
treated  so." 


CHAPTER  VT. 

A    SNAKE    IN    THE    GRASS    INTERFERES    WITH    THE 
EDUCATION  OF  MIKABELLE  MARIE. 

"  Fair  is  the  earth  and  fair  is  the  sky ; 
God  of  the  tempest,  God  of  the  calm, 
What  must  be  heaven  when  here  is  such  balm  ?  " 

—  •  Aminta. 

BIDIANE,  being  of  a  practical  turn  of  mind,  and  hav 
ing  a  tremendous  fund  of  energy  to  bestow  upon  the 
world  in  some  way  or  other,  was  doing  her  best  to 
follow  the  hint  given  her  by  Vesper  Nimmo,  that 
she  should,  as  a  means  of  furthering  her  education, 
spend  some  time  at  the  Sleeping  Water  Inn,  with  the 
object  of  imparting  to  Mirabelle  Marie  a  few  ideas 
hitherto  outside  her  narrow  range  of  thought. 

Sometimes  the  girl  became  provoked  with  her  aunt, 
sometimes  she  had  to  check  herself  severely,  and 
rapidly  mutter  Vesper's  incantation.  "  Do  not  despise 
any  one ;  if  you  do,  it  will  be  at  a  great  loss  to 
yourself." 

At  other  times  Bidiane  had  no  need  to  think  of  the 
incantation.  Her  aunt  was  so  good-natured,  so  for- 

372 


THE   EDUCATION   OF  MIRABELLE   MARIE.      373 

giving,  she  was  so  full  of  pride  in  her  young  niece, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  only  the  most  intense  provocation 
could  justify  any  impatience  with  her. 

Mirabelle  Marie  loved  Bidiane  almost  as  well  as  she 
loved  her  own  children,  and  it  was  only  some  radical 
measure,  such  as  the  changing  of  her  sneaks  at  sun 
down  for  a  pair  of  slippers,  or  the  sitting  in  the  par 
lor  instead  of  the  kitchen,  that  excited  her  rebellion. 
However,  she  readily  yielded,  —  these  skirmishes  were 
not  the  occurrences  that  vexed  Kidiane's  soul.  The 
renewed  battles  were  the  things  that  discouraged  her. 
No  victory  was  sustained.  Each  day  she  must  con 
tend  for  what  had  been  conceded  the  day  before,  and 
she  was  tortured  by  the  knowledge  that  so  little  hold 
had  she  on  Mirabelle  Marie's  slippery  soul  that,  if  she 
were  to  leave  Sleeping  Water  on  any  certain  day,  by 
the  next  one  matters  would  at  once  slip  back  to  their 
former  condition. 

"  Do  not  be  discouraged,"  Vesper  wrote  her.  "  The 
Bay  was  not  built  in  a  day.  Some  of  your  ancestors 
lived  in  camps  in  the  woods." 

This  was  an  allusion  on  his  part  to  the  grandmother 
of  Mrs.  Watercrow,  who  had  actually  been  a  squaw, 
and  Bidiane,  as  a  highly  civilized  being,  winced 
slightly  at  it.  Very  little  of  the  Indian  strain  had 
entered  her  veins,  except  a  few  drops  that  were 
exhibited  in  a  passion  for  rambling  in  the  woods. 
She  was  more  like  her  French  ancestors,  but  he: 


374  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

aunt  had  the  lazy,  careless  blood,  as  had  also  her 
children. 

One  of  the  chief  difficulties  that  Bidiane  had  to 
contend  with,  in  her  aunt,  was  her  irreligion.  Mira- 
belle  Marie  had  weak  religious  instincts.  She  had  as  a 
child,  and  as  a  very  young  woman,  been  an  adherent 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  had  obtained  some 
grasp  of  its  doctrines.  When,  in  order  to  become 
"  stylish,"  'she  had  forsaken  this  church,  she  found 
herself  in  the  position  of  a  forlorn  dog  who,  having 
dropped  his  substantial  bone,  finds  himself  groping 
for  a  shadow.  Protestantism  was  an  empty  word  to 
her.  She  could  not  comprehend  it  ;  and  Bidiane,  al 
though  a  Protestant  herself,  shrewdly  made  up  her 
mind  that  there  was  no  hope  for  her  aunt  save  in  the 
church  of  her  forefathers.  However,  in  what  way  to 
get  her  back  to  it,  —  that  was  the  question.  She 
scolded,  entreated,  reasoned,  but  all  in  vain.  Mira- 
belle  Marie  lounged  about  the  house  all  day  Sunday, 
very  often,  strange  to  say,  amusing  herself  with  decla 
mations  against  the  irreligion  of  the  people  of  Boston. 

Bidiane's  opportunity  to  change  this  state  of  affairs 
at  last  came,  and  all  unthinkingly  she  embraced  it. 

The  opportunity  began  on  a  hot  and  windy  after 
noon,  a  few  days  after  her  drive  with  Agapit.  She 
sat  on  the  veranda  reading,  until  struck  by  a  sudden 
thought  which  made  her  close  her  book,  and  glance 
up.  and  down  the  long  road,  to  see  if  the  flying  clouds 


THE   EDUCATION  OF  MIRABELLE   MARIE.     375 

of  dust  were  escorting  any  approaching  traveller  to 
the  inn.  No  one  was  coming,  so  she  hastily  left  the 
house  and  ran  across  the  road  to  the  narrow  green 
field  that  lay  between  the  inn  and  the  Bay. 

The  field  was  bounded  by  straggling  rows  of  rasp 
berry  bushes,  and  over  the  bushes  hung  a  few  apple- 
trees,  —  meek,  patient  trees,  their  backs  bent  from 
stooping  before  the  strong  westerly  winds,  their  short, 
stubby  foliage  blown  all  over  their  surprised  heads. 

There  was  a  sheep-pen  in  the  corner  of  the  field 
next  the  road,  and  near  it  was  a  barred  gate,  opening 
on  a  winding  path  that  led  down  to  the  flat  shore. 
Bidiane  went  through  the  gate,  frowned  slightly  at  a 
mowing-machine  left  out-of-doors  for  many  days  by 
the  careless  Claude,  then  laughed  at  the  handle  of 
its  uplifted  brake,  that  looked  like  a  disconsolate  and 
protesting  arm  raised  to  the  sky. 

All  the  family  were  in  the  hay  field.  Two  white 
oxen  drew  the  hay  wagon  slowly  to  and  fro,  while 
Claudine  and  the  two  boys  circled  about  it,  raking 
together  scattered  wisps  left  from  the  big  cocks 
that  'Claude  threw  up  to  Mirabelle  Marie. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  was  in  her  element. 
She  gloried  in  haying,  which  was  the  only  form  of 
exercise  that  appealed  in  the  least  to  her.  Her  face 
was  overspread  by  a  grin  of  delight,  her  red  dress 
fluttered  in  the  strong  breeze,  and  she  gleefully 
jumped  up  and  down  on  top  of  the  load,  and 


376  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

superimposed  her  fat  jolly  weight  on  the  masses 
of  hay. 

Bidiane  ran  towards  them,  dilating  her  small  nos 
trils  as  she  ran  to  catch  the  many  delicious  odors  of 
the  summer  air.  The  strong  perfume  of  the  hay 
overpowered  them  all,  and,  in  an  intoxication  of  de 
light,  she  dropped  on  a  heap  of  it,  and  raised  an 
armful  to  her  face. 

A  squeal  from  Claudine  roused  her.  Her  rake 
had  uncovered  a  mouse's  nest,  and  she  was  busily  en 
gaged  in  killing  every  one  of  the  tiny  velvety  crea 
tures. 

"  But  why  do  you  do  it  ?"  asked  Bidiane,  running 
up  to  her. 

Claudine  stared  at  her.  She  was  a  magnificent 
specimen  of  womanhood  as  she  stood  In  the  blazing- 
light  of  the  sun,  and  Bidiane,  even  in  the  midst  of 
her  subdued  indignation,  thought  of  some  lines  in  the 
Shakespeare  that  she  had  just  laid  down  : 

"  'Tis  not  your  inky  brows,  your  black  silk  hair, 
Your  bugle  eyeballs,  nor  your  cheek  of  cream, 
That  can  entame  my  spirits  to  your  worship." 

Claudine  was  carrying  on  a  vigorous  line  of  reason 
ing.  She  admired  Bidiane  intensely,  and  she  quietly 
listened  with  pleasure  to  what  she  called  her  rocam 
boles  of  the  olden  times,  which  were  Bidiane's  tales 
of  Acadien  exploits  and  sufferings.  She  was  a 


THE   EDUCATION  OF  MIRABELLE   MARIE.     377 

more  apt  pupil  than  the  dense  and  silly  Mirabelle 
Marie. 

"  If  I  was  a  mouse  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  killed," 
she  said,  presently,  going  on  with  her  raking  ;  and 
Bidiane,  having  made  her  think,  was  satisfied. 

"Now,  Claudine,"  she  said,  "you  must  be  tired. 
Give  me  your  rake,  and  do  you  go  up  to  the  house 
and  rest." 

"  Yes,  go,  Claudine,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie,  from 
her  height,  "you  look  drug  out." 

"  I  am  not  tired,"  said  Claudine,  in  French,  "  and  I 
^hall  not  give  my  rake  to  you,  Bidiane.  You  are  not 
used  to  work." 

Bidiane  bubbled  over  into  low,  rippling  laughter. 
"  I  delicate,  —  ah,  that  is  good  !  Give  me  your 
rake,  Claude.  You  go  up  to  the  barn  now,  do  you 
not  ?  " 

Claude  nodded,  and  extended  a  strong  hand  to 
assist  his  wife  in  sliding  to  the  ground.  Then,  ac 
companied  by  his  boys,  he  jogged  slowly  after  the 
wagon  to  the  barn,  where  the  oxen  would  be  unyoked, 
and  the  grasping  pitcher  would  lift  the  load  in  two  or 
three  mouthfuls  to  the  mows. 

Bidiane  threw  down  her  rake  and  ran  to  the  fence 
for  some  raspberries,  and  while  her  hands  were  busy 
with  the  red  fruit,  her  bright  eyes  kept  scanning  the 
road.  She  watched  a  foot-passenger  coming  slowly 
from  the  station,  pausing  at  the  corner,  drifting  in  a 


3/8  ROSE   A    CHARLITTR. 

leisurely  way  towards  the  inn,  and  finally,  after  a 
glance  at  Mirabelle  Marie's  conspicuous  gown,  climb 
ing  the  fence,  and  moving  deliberately  towards  her. 

"  H'm  —  a  snake  in  the  grass,"  murmured  Bidiane, 
keeping  an  eye  on  the  new  arrival,  and  presently  she, 
too,  made  her  way  towards  her  aunt  and  Claudine, 
who  had  ceased  work  and  were  seated  on  the  hay. 

"This  is  Nannichette,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie,  some 
what  apprehensively,  when  Bidiane  reached  them. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  girl,  and  she  nodded  stiffly 
to  the  woman,  who  was  almost  as  fat  and  as  easy-going 
as  Mirabelle  Marie  herself. 

Nannichette  was  half  Acadien  and  half  English, 
and  she  had  married  a  pure  Indian  who  lived  back  in 
the  woods  near  the  Sleeping  Water  Lake.  She  was 
not  a  very  desirable  acquaintance  for  Mirabelle  Marie, 
but  she  was  not  a  positively  bad  woman,  and  no  one 
would  think  of  shutting  a  door  against  her,  although 
her  acquaintance  was  not  positively  sought  after  by 
the  scrupulous  Acadiens. 

"We  was  gabbin'  about  diggin'  for  gold  one  day, 
Nannichette  and  I,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie,  insinuat 
ingly.  "  She  knows  a  heap  about  good  places, 
and  the  good  time  to  dig.  You  tell  us,  Biddy,  —  I 
mean  Bidiane,  —  some  of  yer  yarns  about  the  lake. 
Mebbe  there's  some  talk  of  gold  in  "em." 

Bidiane  sat  down  on  the  hay.  If  she  talked,  it 
would  at  least  prevent  Nannichette  from  pouring 


THE   EDUCATION  OF  MIRABELLE   MARIE.     3/9 

her  nonsense  into  her  aunt's  ear,  so  she  began.  "  I 
have  not  yet  seen  this  lake  of  L '  Eau  Dormant e,  but 
I  have  read  of  it.  Long,  long  ago,  before  the  Eng 
lish  came  to  this  province,  and  even  before  the  French 
came,  there  was  an  Indian  encampment  on  the  shores 
of  this  deep,  smooth,  dark  lake.  Many  canoes  shot 
gaily  across  its  glassy  surface,  many  camp-fires  sent 
up  their  smoke  from  among  the  trees  to  the  clear, 
blue  sky.  The  encampment  was  an  old,  old  one. 
The  Indians  had  occupied  it  for  many  winters  ;  they 
planned  to  occupy  it  for  many  more,  but  one  sweet 
spring  night,  when  they  were  dreaming  of  summer 
roamings,  a  band  of  hostile  Indians  came  slipping 
behind  the  tree-trunks.  A  bright  blaze  shot  up  to 
the  clear  sky,  and  the  bosom  of  Sleeping  Water 
looked  as  if  some  one  had  drawn  a  bloody  finger 
across  it.  Following  this  were  shrieks  and  savage 
yells,  and  afterward  a  profound  silence.  The  Indi 
ans  left,  and  the  shuddering  trees  grew  closer  to 
gether  to  hide  the  traces  of  the  savage  invaders  — 
no,  the  marks  of  devastation,"  she  said,  stopping 
suddenly  and  correcting  herself,  for  she  had  a  good 
memory,  and  at  times  was  apt  to  repeat  verbatim  the 
words  of  some  of  her  favorite  historians  or  story 
tellers. 

"  The  green  running  vines,  also,"  she  continued, 
"  made  haste  to  spread  over  the  blackened  ground, 
and  the  leaves  fell  quietly  over  the  dead  bodies  and 


380  A'OS£   A    CHAKLITTE. 

warmly  covered  them.  Years  went  by,  the  leaf -mould 
had  gathered  thick  over  the  graves  of  the  Indians, 
and  then,  on  a  memorable  day,  the  feast  of  Sainte- 
Anne's,  the  French  discovered  the  lovely,  silent 
Sleeping  Water,  the  gem  of  the  forest,  and  erected  a 
fort  on  its  banks.  The  royal  flag  floated  over  the 
trees,  a  small  space  of  ground  was  cleared  for  the 
planting  of  corn,  and  a  garden  was  laid  out,  where 
seeds  from  old  France  grew  and  flourished,  for  no 
disturbing  gales  from  the  Bay  ever  reached  this 
sanctuary  of  the  wildwood. 

"  All  went  merrily  as  a  marriage  bell  until  one 
winter  night,  when  the  bosom  of  the  lake  was  frosted 
with  ice,  and  the  snow-laden  branches  of  the  trees 
hung  heavily  earthward.  Then,  in  the  hush  before 
morning,  a  small  detachment  of  men  on  snowshoes, 
arrayed  in  a  foreign  uniform,  and  carrying  hatchets 
in  their  hands  — 

"  More  Injuns  !  "  gasped  Mirabelle  Marie,  clapping 
her  hand  to  her  mouth  in  lively  distress  at  Bidiane's 
tragic  manner. 

"  No,  no !  I  didn't  say  tomahawks,"  said  Bidi- 
ane,  who  started  nervously  at  the  interruption  ;  "  the 
hatchets  weren't  for  killing,  —  they  were  to  cut 
the  branches.  These  soldiers  crept  stealthily  and 
painfully  through  the  underbrush,  where  broken 
limbs  and  prickly  shrubs  stretched  out  detaining 
arms  to  hold  them  back  ;  but  they  would  not  be  held, 


THE    EDUCATION   OF  MIRABELLE    MARIE.     381 

for  the  lust  of  murder  was  in  their  hearts.  When 
they  reached  the  broad  and  open  lake  — 

"  You  jist  said  it  was  frozen,"  interrupted  the  irre 
pressible  Mirabelle  Marie. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  —  the  ice-sealed  sheet  of 
water,  —  the  soldiers  threw  away  their  hatchets  and 
unslung  their  guns,  and  again  a  shout  of  horror  went 
up  to  the  clear  vault  of  heaven.  White  men  slew 
white  men,  for  the  invaders  were  not  Indians,  but 
English  soldiers,  and  there  were  streaks  of  crimson 
on  the  snow  where  the  French  soldiers  laid  them 
selves  down  to  die. 

"  There  seemed  to  be  a  curse  on  the  lake,  and  it 
was  deserted  for  many  years,  until  a  band  of  sorrow 
ing  Acadien  exiles  was  forced  to  take  refuge  in  the 
half-ruined  fort.  They  summered  and  wintered  there, 
until  they  all  died  of  a  strange  sickness  and  were 
buried  by  one  man  who,  only,  survived.  He  vowed 
that  the  lake  was  haunted,  and  would  never  be  an 
abode  for  human  beings  ;  so  he  came  to  the  shore 
and  built  himself  a  log  cabin,  that  he  occupied  in  fear 
and  trembling  until  at  last  the  time  came  when  the 
French  were  no  longer  persecuted." 

"  Agapit  LeNoir  also  says  that  the  lake  is 
haunted,"  exclaimed  Claudine,  in  excited  French. 
"  He  hates  the  little  river  that  comes  stealing  from  it. 
He  likes  the  Bay,  the  open  Bay.  There  is  no  one 
here  that  loves  the  river  but  Rose  a.  Charlitte." 


382  ROSE   A    CHARLITTR. 

"  But  dere  is  gold  dere,  —  heaps,"  said  the  visitor, 
in  English,  and  her  eyes  glistened. 

"  Only  foolish  people  say  that,"  remarked  Clau- 
dine,  decidedly,  "  and  even  if  there  should  be  gold 
there,  it  would  be  cursed." 

"  You  not  think  that,"  said  Nannichette,  shrinking 
back. 

"  Oh,  how  stupid  all  this  is  !  "  said  Bidiane.  "  Up 
the  Bay  I  used  to  hear  this  talk  of  gold.  You  re 
member,  my  aunt  ?  " 

Mirabelle  Marie's  shoulders  shook  with  amuse 
ment.  "  Man  jhcu,  yes,  on  the  stony  Dead  Man's 
Point,  where  there  ain't  enough  earth  to  fricasser  les 
cailloux"  (fricassee  the  pebbles)  ;  "  it's  all  dug  up  like 
graveyards.  Come  on,  Nannichette,  tell  us  ag'in  of 
yer  fantome." 

Nannichette  became  suddenly  shy,  and  Mira 
belle  Marie  took  it  upon  herself  to  be  spokes 
woman.  "  She  was  rockin'  her  baby,  when  she 
heard  a  divil  of  a  noise.  The  ceiling  gapped  at 
her,  jist  like  you  open  yer  mouth,  and  a  fantome 
voice  says  - 

"  '  Uere  is  gole  in  Sleepin'  Water  Lake,'"  inter 
rupted  Nannichette,  hastily.  "  '  Only  women  shall 
dig,  — men  cannot  fine.'  ' 

"  An'  Nannichette  was  squshed,  —  she  fell  ag'in 
the  floor  with  her  baby." 

"  And  then  she  ran  about  to  see  if  she  could  find 


THE   EDUCATION  OF  MfRABELLE   MARIE.     383 

some  women  foolish  enough  to  believe  this,"  said 
Bidiane,  with  fine  youthful  disdain. 

A  slow  color  crept  into  Nannichette's  brown 
cheek.  "  Dere  is  gole  dere,"  she  said,  obstinately. 
"  De  speerit  tell  me  where  to  look." 

"  That  was  Satan  who  spoke  to  you,  Nannichette," 
said  Claudine,  seriously ;  "  or  maybe  you  had  had  a 
little  rum.  Come  now,  hadn't  you  ?" 

Nannichette  scowled,  while  Mirabelle  Marie  mur 
mured,  with  reverent  admiration,  "  I  dessay  the  divil 
knows  where  there  is  lots  of  gold." 

"  It  drives  me  frantic  to  hear  you  discuss  this  sub 
ject,"  said  Bidiane,  suddenly  springing  to  her  feet. 
"  Oh,  if  you  knew  how  ignorant  it  sounds,  how  way 
back  in  the  olden  times  !  What  would  the  people  in 
Paris  say  if  they  could  hear  you  ?  Oh,  please,  let  us 
talk  of  something  else ;  let  us  mention  art." 

"What's  dat  ? "  asked  Nannichette,  pricking  up 
her  ears. 

"  It  is  all  about  music,  and  writing  poetry,  and 
making  lovely  pictures,  and  all  kinds  of  elegant 
things,  —  it  elevates  your  mind  and  soul.  Don't  talk 
about  hateful  things.  What  do  you  want  to  live 
back  in  the  woods  for  ?  Why  don't  you  come  out  to 
the  shore  ?  " 

"  Dat's  why  I  wan'  de  gole,"  said  Nannichette, 
triumphantly.  "  Of'en  I  use  to  hunt  for  some  of 
Cap'en  Kidd's  pots," 


384  ROSE    A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  said  Bidiane,  with  an  impatient 
gesture,  "how  much  money  do  you  suppose  that 
man  had  ?  They  are  searching  for  his  treasure 
all  along  the  coast.  I  don't  believe  he  ever  had  a 
bit.  He  was  a  wicked  old  pirate,  —  I  wouldn't  spend 
his  money  if  I  found  it  — 

Mirabelle  Marie  and  Nannichette  surveyed  each 
other's  faces  with  cunning,  glittering  eyes.  There 
was  a  secret  understanding  between  them  ;  no  speech 
was  necessary,  and  they  contemplated  Bidiane  as  two 
benevolent  wild  beasts  might  survey  an  innocent  and 
highly  cultured  lamb  who  attempted  to  reason  with 
them. 

Bidiane  dimly  felt  her  powerlessness,  and,  accom 
panied  by  Claudine,  went  back  to  her  raking,  and 
left  the  two  sitting  on  the  hay. 

While  the  girl  was  undressing  that  night,  Claudine 
tapped  at  her  door.  "  It  is  all  arranged,  Bidiane. 
They  are  going  to  dig." 

Bidiane  impatiently  shook  her  hanging  mass  of 
hair,  and  stamped  her  foot  on  the  floor.  "  They 
shall  not." 

"Nannichette  did  not  go  away,"  continued  Clau 
dine.  "  She  hung  about  the  stable,  and  Mirabelle 
Marie  took  her  up  some  food.  I  was  feeding  the 
pig,  and  I  overheard  whispering.  They  are  to  get 
some  women  together,  and  Nannichette  will  lead 
them  to  the  place  the  spirit  told  her  of." 


THE    EDUCATION   OF  MIRABELLE   MARIE.     385 

"  Oh,  the  simpleton !  She  shall  not  come  here 
again,  and  my  aunt  shall  not  accompany  her  —  but 
where  do  they  wish  to  go  ?  " 

"To  the  Sleeping  Water  Lake." 

"  Claudine,  you  know  there  is  no  gold  there. 
The  Indians  had  none,  the  French  had  none,  —  where 
would  the  poor  exiles  get  it  ?  " 

"  All  this  is  reasonable,  but  there  are  people  who 
are  foolish,  —  always  foolish.  I  tell  you,  this  seeking 
for  gold  is  like  a  fever.  One  catches  it  from  another. 
I  had  an  uncle  who  thought  there  was  a  treasure  hid 
on  his  farm  ;  he  dug  it  all  over,  then  he  went  crazy." 

Bidiane's  head,  that,  in  the  light  of  her  lamp,  had 
turned  to  a  dull  red-gold,  sank  on  her  breast.  "  I 
have  it,"  she  said  at  last,  flinging  it  up,  and  choking 
with  irrepressible  laughter.  "  Let  them  go,  —  we 
will  play  them  a  trick.  Nothing  else  will  cure  my 
aunt.  Listen,—  "  and  she  laid  a  hand  on  the  shoul 
der  of  the  young  woman  confronting  her,  and  ear 
nestly  unfolded  a  primitive  plan. 

Claudine  at  once  fell  in  with  it.  She  had  never 
yet  disapproved  of  a  suggestion  of  Bidiane,  and  after 
a  time  she  went  chuckling  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

GHOSTS  BY  SLEEPING  WATER. 

"  Which  apparition,  it  seems,  was  you." 

—  Tatler. 

THE  next  day  Claudine's  left  eyelid  trembled  in 
Bidiane's  direction. 

The  girl  followed  her  to  the  pantry,  where  she 
heard,  murmured  over  a  pan  of  milk,  "  They  go 
to-night,  as  soon  as  it  is  dark,  —  Mirabelle  Marie, 
Suretta,  and  Mosee-Delice." 

"Very  well,"  said  Bidiane,  curling  her  lip,  "we 
will  go  too." 

Accordingly,  that  evening,  when  Mirabelle  Marie 
clapped  her  rakish  hat  on  her  head,  —  for  nothing 
would  induce  her  to  wear  a  handkerchief,  —  and  said 
that  she  was  going  to  visit  a  sick  neighbor,  Bidiane 
demurely  commended  her  thoughtfulness,  and  sent 
an  affecting  message  to  the  invalid. 

However,  the  mistress  of  the  inn  had  no  sooner 
disappeared  than  her  younger  helpmeets  tied  black 
handkerchiefs  on  their  heads,  and  slipped  out  to  the 
yard,  each  carrying  a  rolled-up  sheet  and  a  paper  of 
pins.  With  much  suppressed  laughter  they  glided 

386 


GHOSTS  BY  SLEEP/NO    WATER.  387 

up  behind  the  barn,  and  struck  across  the  fields  to 
the  station  road.  When  half-way  there,  Bidiane  felt 
something  damp  and  cold  touch  her  hand,  and,  with  a 
start  and  a  slight  scream,  discovered  that  her  uncle's 
dog,  Bastarache,  in  that  way  signified  his  wish  to  join 
the  expedition. 

"  Come,  then,  good  dog,"  she  said,  in  French,  for 
he  was  a  late  acquisition  and,  having  been  brought 
up  in  the  woods,  understood  no  English,  "  thou,  too, 
shalt  be  a  ghost." 

It  was  a  dark,  furiously  windy  night,  for  the  hot 
gale  that  had  been  blowing  over  the  Bay  for  three 
days  was  just  about  dying  away  with  a  fiercer  display 
of  energy  than  before. 

The  stars  were  out,  but  they  did  not  give  much 
light,  and  Bidiane  and  Claudine  had  only  to  stand  a 
little  aside  from  the  road,  under  a  group  of  spruces,  in 
order  to  be  completely  hidden  from  the  three  women 
as  they  went  tugging  by.  They  had  met  at  the  cor 
ner,  and,  in  no  fear  of  discovery,  for  the  night  was 
most  unpleasant  and  there  were  few  people  stirring, 
they  trudged  boldly  on,  screaming  neighborhood 
news  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  in  order  to  be  heard 
above  the  noise  of  the  wind. 

Bidiane  and  Claudine  followed  them  at  a  safe  dis 
tance.  "  Mon  Dieu,  but  Mirabelle  Marie's  fat  legs 
will  ache  to-morrow,"  said  Claudine,  "  she  that  walks 
so  little." 


388  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  If  it  were  an  honest  errand  that  she  was  going 
on,  she  would  have  asked  for  the  horse.  As  it  is, 
she  was  ashamed  to  do  so." 

The  three  women  fairly  galloped  over  the  road  to 
the  station,  for,  at  first,  both  tongues  and  heels  were 
excited,  and  even  Mirabelle  Marie,  although  she  was 
the  only  fat  one  of  the  party,  managed  to  keep  up 
with  the  others. 

To  Claudine,  Bidiane,  and  the  dog,  the  few  miles 
to  the  station  were  a  mere  bagatelle.  However, 
after  crossing  the  railway  track,  they  were  obliged 
to  go  more  slowly,  for  the  three  in  front  had  begun 
to  flag.  They  also  had  stopped  gossiping,  and  when 
an  occasional  wagon  approached,  they  stepped  into 
the  bushes  beside  the  road  until  it  had  passed  by.  - 

The  dog,  in  great  wonderment  of  mind,  chafed  at 
the  string  that  Bidiane  took  from  her  pocket  and 
fastened  around  his  neck.  He  scented  his  mistress 
on  ahead,  and  did  not  understand  why  the  two 
parties  might  not  be  amicably  united. 

A  mile  beyond  the  station,  the  three  gold-seekers 
left  the  main  road  and  plunged  into  a  rough  wood- 
track  that  led  to  the  lake.  Here  the  darkness  was 
intense;  the  trees  formed  a  thick  screen  overhead, 
through  which  only  occasional  glimpses  of  a  narrow 
lane  of  stars  could  be  obtained. 

"This  is  terrible,"  gasped  Bidiane,  as  her  foot 
struck  a  root;  "lift  your  feet  high,  Claudine." 


GHOSTS   BY  SLEEPING    WATER.  389 

Claudine  gave  her  a  hand.  She  was  almost  hys 
terical  from  listening  to  the  groaning  on  ahead. 
"  Since  the  day  of  my  husband's  death,  I  have  not 
laughed  so  much,"  she  said,  winking  away  the  ner 
vous  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  I  do  not  love  fun  as  much 
as  some  people,  but  when  I  laugh,  I  laugh  hard." 

"  My  aunt  will  be  in  bed  to-morrow,"  sighed 
Bidiane  ;  "  what  a  pity  that  she  is  such  a  goose." 

"  She  is  tough,"  giggled  Claudine,  "do  not  disturb 
yourself.  It  is  you  that  I  fear  for." 

At  last,  the  black,  damp,  dark  road  emerged  on  a 
clearing.  There  stood  the  Indian's  dwelling,  —  small 
and  yellow,  with  a  fertile  garden  before  it,  and  a  tiny, 
prosperous  orchard  at  the  back. 

"  You  must  enter  this  house  some  day,"  whispered 
Claudine.  "  Everything  shines  there,  and  they  are 
well  fixed.  Nannichette  has  a  sewing-machine,  and 
a  fine  cook-stove,  and  when  she  does  not  help  her 
husband  make  baskets,  she  sews  and  bakes." 

"  Will  her  husband  approve  of  this  expedition  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  he  must  have  gone  to  the  shore,  or 
Nannichette  would  not  undertake  it,  —  listen  to  what 
Mirabelle  Marie  says." 

The  fat  woman  had  sunk  exhausted  on  the  door 
step  of  the  yellow  house.  "  Nannichette,  I  be  deche 
if  I  go  a  step  furder,  till  you  gimme  checque  chouse 
pour  mouiller  la  langitc"  (give  me  something  to  wet 
my  tongue). 


3QO  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  All  right,"  said  Nannichette,  in  the  soft,  drawl 
ing  tones  that  she  had  caught  from  the  Indians,  and 
she  brought  her  out  a  pitcher  of  milk. 

Mirabelle  Marie  put  the  pitcher  to  her  lips,  and 
gurgled  over  the  milk  a  joyful  thanksgiving  that  she 
had  got  away  from  the  rough  road,  and  the  rougher 
wind,  that  raged  like  a  bull  ;  then  she  said,  "  Your 
husband  is  away  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Nannichette,  in  some  embarrassment, 
"  he  ain't,  but  come  in." 

Mirabelle  Marie  rose,  and  with  her  companions 
went  into  the  house,  while  Bidiane  and  Claudine 
crept  to  the  windows. 

"  Dear  me,  this  is  the  best  Indian  house  that  I 
ever  saw,"  said  Bidiane,  taking  a  survey,  through  the 
cheap  lace  curtains,  of  the  sewing-machine,  the  cup 
board  of  dishes,  and  the  neat  tables  and  chairs  inside. 
Then  she  glided  on  in  a  voyage  of  discovery  around 
the  house,  skirting  the  diminutive  bedrooms,  where 
half  a  dozen  children  lay  snoring  in  comfortable  beds, 
and  finally  arriving  outside  a  shed,  where  a  tall, 
slight  Indian  was  on  his  knees,  planing  staves  for 
a  tub  by  the  light  of  a  lamp  on  a  bracket  above 
him. 

His  wife's  work  lay  on  the  floor.  When  not  suf 
fering  from  the  gold. fever,  she  twisted  together  the 
dried  strips  of  maple  wood  and  scented  grasses,  and 
made  baskets  that  she  sold  at  a  good  price. 


GHOSTS   BY  SLEEPING    WATER.  39! 

The  Indian  did  not  move  an  eyelid,  but  he  plainly 
saw  Bidiane  and  Claudine,  and  wondered  why  they 
were  not  with  the  other  women,  who,  in  some  uneasi 
ness  of  mind,  stood  in  the  doorway,  looking  at  him 
over  each  other's  shoulders. 

After  his  brief  nod  and  taciturn  "  Hullo,  ladies," 
his  wife  said,  "We  go  for  walk  in  woods." 

"  What  for  you  lie  ? "  he  said,  in  English,  for  the 
Micmacs  of  the  Bay  are  accomplished  linguists,  and 
make  use  of  three  languages.  "  You  go  to  dig 
gold,"  and  he  grunted  contemptuously. 

No  one  replied  to  him,  and  he  continued, 
"  Ladies,  all  religions  is  good.  I  cannot  say,  you 
go  hell  'cause  you  Catholic,  an'  I  go  heaven  'cause 
I  Protestant.  All  same  with  God,  if  you  believe 
your  religion.  But  your  priesties  not  say-  to  dig 
gold." 

He  took  up  the  stave  that  he  had  laid  down,  and 
went  on  with  his  work  of  smoothing  it,  while  the 
four  "ladies,"  Mirabelle  Marie,  Suretta,  Mosee- 
Delice,  and  his  wife,  appeared  to  be  somewhat 
ashamed  of  themselves. 

"  Ton  my  soul  an'  body,  there  ain't  no  harm  in 
diggin'  gold,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie.  "That  gives 
us  fun." 

"  How  many  you  be  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Four,"  said  Nannichette,  who  was  regarding  her 
lord  and  master  with  some  shyness  ;  for  stupid  as 


392  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

she  was,  she  recognized  the  fact  that  he  was  the 
more  civilized  being,  and  that  the  prosperity  of  their 
family  was  largely  due  to  him. 

The  Indian's  liquid  eyes  glistened  for  an  instant 
towards  the  window,  where  stood  Bidiane  and  Clau- 
dine.  "Take  care,  ladies,  there  be  ghosties  in  the 
woods." 

The  four  women  laughed  loudly,  but  in  a  shaky 
manner ;  then  taking  each  a  handful  of  raspberries, 
from  a  huge  basketful  that  Nannichette  offered  them, 
and  that  was  destined  for  the  preserve  pot  on  the 
morrow,  they  once  more  plunged  into  the  dark  woods. 

Bidiane  and  Claudine  restrained  the  leaping  dog, 
and  quietly  followed  them.  The  former  could  not 
conceal  her  delight  when  they  came  suddenly  upon 
the  lake.  It  lay  like  a  huge,  dusky  mirror,  turned 
up  to  the  sky  with  a  myriad  stars  piercing  its  glassy 
bosom. 

"Stop,"  murmured  Claudine. 

The  four  women  had  paused  ahead  of  them.  They 
were  talking  and  gesticulating  violently,  for  all  con 
versation  was  forbidden  while  digging.  One  word 
spoken  aloud,  and  the  charm  would  be  broken,  the 
spirit  would  rush  angrily  from  the  spot. 

Therefore  they  were  finishing  up  their  ends  of 
talk,  and  Nannichette  was  assuring  them  that  she 
would  take  them  to  the  exact  spot  revealed  to  her  in 
the  vision. 


GHOSTS  BY  SLEEPING    WATER.  393 

Presently  they  set  off  in  Indian  file,  Nannichette 
in  front,  as  the  one  led  by  the  spirit,  and  carrying 
with  her  a  washed  and  polished  spade,  that  she  had 
brought  from  her  home. 

Claudine  and  Bidiane  were  careful  not  to  speak, 
for  there  was  not  a  word  uttered  now  by  the  women 
in  front,  and  the  pursuers  needed  to  follow  them  with 
extreme  caution.  On  they  went,  climbing  silently 
over  the  grassy  mounds  that  were  now  the  only 
reminders  of  the  old  French  fort,  or  stumbling  un 
expectedly  and  noisily  into  the  great  heap  of  clam 
shells,  whose  contents  had  been  eaten  by  the  hungry 
exiles  of  long  ago. 

At  last  they  stopped.  Nannichette  stared  up  at 
the  sky,  down  at  the  ground,  across  the  lake  on  her 
right,  and  into  the  woods  on  her  left,  and  then 
pointed  to  a  spot  in  the  grass,  and  with  a  magical 
flourish  of  the  spade  began  to  dig. 

Having  an  Indian  husband,  she  was  accustomed 
to  work  out-of-doors,  and  was  therefore  able  to  dig 
for  a  long  time  before  she  became  sensible  of  fatigue, 
and  was  obliged  mutely  to  extend  the  spade  to  Suretta. 

Not  so  enduring  were  the  other  women.  Their 
ancestors  had  ploughed  and  reaped,  but  Acadiennes 
of  the  present  day  rarely  work  on  the  farms,  unless 
it  is  during  the  haying  season.  Suretta  soon  gave 
out.  Mose"e-Delice  took  her  place,  and  Mirabelle 
Marie  hung  back  until  the  last. 


394  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Bidiane  and  Claudine  withdrew  among  the  trees, 
stifling  their  laughter  and  trying  to  calm  the  dog, 
who  had  finally  reached  a  state  of  frenzy  at  this 
mysterious  separation. 

"  My  unfortunate  aunt !  "  murmured  Bidiane  ;  "do 
let  us  put  an  end  to  this." 

Claudine  was  snickering  convulsively.  She  had 
begun  to  array  herself  in  one  of  the  sheets,  and  was 
transported  with  amusement  and  anticipation. 

Meanwhile,  doubt  and  discord  had  reared  their  dis 
turbing  heads  among  the  members  of  the  digging 
party.  Mirabelle  Marie  persisted  in  throwing  up  the 
spade  too  soon,  and  the  other  women,  regarding  her 
with  glowing,  eloquent  looks,  quietly  arranged  that 
the  honorable  agricultural  implement,  now  perverted 
to  so  unbecoming  a  use,  should  return  to  her  hands 
with  disquieting  frequency. 

The  earth  was  soft  here  by  the  lake,  yet  it  was 
heavy  to  lift  out,  for  the  hole  had  now  become  quite 
deep.  Suddenly,  to  the  horror  and  anger  of  Nanni- 
chette  and  the  other  two  women,  both  of  whom 
were  beginning  to  have  mysterious  warnings  and 
impressions  that  they  were  now  on  the  brink  of 
discovery  of  one  pot  of  gold,  and  perhaps  two, 
there  was  an  impatient  exclamation  from  .Mirabelle 
Marie. 

"The  divil !  "  she  cried,  and  her  voice  broke  out 
shrilly  in  the  deathly  silence  ;  "  Bidiane  was  right.  It 


GHOSTS  BY  SLEEPING    WATER.  395 

ain't  no  speerit  you  saw.  I'm  goin',"  and  she  scram 
bled  out  of  the  hole. 

With  angry  reproaches  for  her  precipitancy  and 
laziness,  the  other  women  fell  upon  her  with  their 
tongues.  She  had  given  them  this  long  walk  to  the 
lake,  she  had  spoiled  everything,  and,  as  their  furious 
voices  smote  the  still  air,  Bidiane,  Claudine,  and  the 
dog  emerged  slowly  and  decently  from  the  heavy 
gloom  behind  them  like  ghosts  rising  from  the  lake. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  bit  of  my  sheet,"  Bidiane  had 
said  to  Bastarache  ;  consequently  he  stalked  beside 
them  like  a  diminutive  bogey  in  a  graceful  mantle  of 
white. 

"A/i,  mon  jheii  !  chesque  j' vois  ?  "  (what  do  I  see), 
screamed  Suretta,  who  was  the  first  to  catch  sight 
of  them.  "Ten  candles  to  the  Virgin  if  I  get  out 
of  this !  "  and  she  ran  like  a  startled  deer. 

With  various  expressions  of  terror,  the  others  fol 
lowed  her.  They  carried  with  them  the  appearance 
of  the  white  ethereal  figures,  standing  against  the 
awful  black  background  of  the  trees,  and  as  they  ran, 
their  shrieks  and  yells  of  horror,  particularly  those 
from  Mirabelle  Marie,  were  so  heartrending  that 
Bidiane,  in  sudden  compunction,  screamed  to  her, 
"  Don't  you  know  me,  my  aunt  ?  It  is  Bidiane, 
your  niece.  Don't  be  afraid!" 

Mirabelle  Marie  was  making  so  much  noise  her 
self  that  she  could  scarcely  have  heard  a  trumpet 


396  KOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

sounding  in  her  ears,  and  fear  lent  her  wings  of  such 
extraordinary  vigor  in  flight  that  she  was  almost 
immediately  out  of  sight. 

Bicliane  turned  to  the  dog,  who  was  tripping  and 
stumbling  inside  his  snowy  drapery,  and  to  Claudine, 
who  was  shrieking  with  delight  at  him. 

"Go  then,  good  dog,  console  your  mistress,"  she 
said.  "Follow  those  piercing  screams  that  float 
backward,"  and  she  was  just  about  to  release  him 
when  she  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  assistance  of 
Claudine,  who  had  caught  her  foot,  and  had  fallen 
to  the  ground,  where  she  lay  overcome  by  hysterical 
laughter. 

Bidiane  had  to  get  water  from  the  lake  to  dash  on 
her  face,  and  when  at  last  they  were  ready  to  pro 
ceed  on  their  way,  the  forest  was  as  still  as  when 
they  had  entered  it. 

"  Bah,  I  am  tired  of  this  joke,"  said  Bidiane.  "We 
have  accomplished  our  object.  Let  us  throw  these 
things  in  the  lake.  I  am  ashamed  of  them  ; "  and 
she  put  a  stone  inside  their  white  trappings,  and 
hurled  them  into  Sleeping  Water,  which  mutely 
received  and  swallowed  them. 

"Now,"  she  said,  impatiently,  "let  us  overtake 
them.  I  am  afraid  lest  Mirabelle  Marie  stumble, 
she  is  so  heavy." 

Claudine,  leaning  against  a  tree  and  mopping  her 
eyes,  vowed  that  it  was  the  best  joke  that  she  had 


GHOSTS   BY  SLEEPING     WATER.  397 

ever  heard  of;  then  she  joined  Bidiane,  and  they 
hurriedly  made  their  way  to  the  yellow  cottage. 

It  was  deserted  now,  except  for  the  presence  of 
the  six  children  of  mixed  blood,  who  were  still 
sleeping  like  six  little  dark  logs,  laid  three  on  a 
bed. 

"We  shall  overtake  them,"  said  Bidiane;  "let  us 
hurry." 

However,  they  did  not  catch  up  to  them  on  the 
forest  path,  nor  even  on  the  main  road,  for  when 
the  terrified  women  had  rushed  into  the  presence  of 
the  Indian  and  had  besought  him  to  escort  them 
away  from  the  spirit-haunted  lake,  that  amused  man, 
with  a  cheerful  grunt,  had  taken  them  back  to  the 
shore  by  a  short  cut  known  only  to  himself. 

Therefore,  when  Bidiane  and  Claudine  arrived 
breathlessly  home,  they  found  Mirabelle  Marie  there 
before  them.  She  sat  in  a  rocking-chair  in  the 
middle  of  the  kitchen,  surrounded  by  a  group  of 
sympathizers,  who  listened  breathlessly  to  her  tale 
of  woe,  that  she  related  with  chattering  teeth. 

Bidiane  ran  to  her  and  threw  her  arms  about  her 
neck. 

"  Mon  jkeu,  Biddy,  I've  got  such  a  fright.  I'm 
mos'  dead.  Three  ghosties  came  out  of  Sleepin' 
Water,  and  chased  us,  —  we  were  back  for  gold. 
Suretta  an'  Mosee-Delice  have  run  home.  They're 
mos'  scairt  to  pieces.  Oh,  I'll  never  sin  again.  I 


398  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

wisht  I'd  made  my  Easter  duties.  I'll  go  to  confes 
sion  to-morrer." 

"It  was  I,  my  aunt,"  cried  Bidiane,  in  distress. 

"  It  was  awful,"  moaned  Mirabelle  Marie.  "  I  see 
the  speerit  of  me  mother,  I  see  the  speerit  of  me 
sister,  I  see  the  speerit  of  me  leetle  lame  child." 

"  It  was  the  dog,"  exclaimed  Bidiane,  and,  gazing 
around  the  kitchen  for  him,  she  discovered  Agapit 
sitting  quietly  in  a  corner. 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do?"  she  said,  in  some  embar 
rassment  ;  then  she  again  gave  her  attention  to  her 
distressed  aunt. 

"  The  dogue,  —  Biddy,  you  ain't  crazy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  dog  and  Claudine  and  I.  See  how 
she  is  laughing.  We  heard  your  plans,  we  followed 
you,  we  dressed  in  sheets." 

"The  dogue,"  reiterated  Mirabelle  Marie,  in  blank 
astonishment,  and  pointing  to  Bastarache,  who  lay 
under  the  sofa  solemnly  winking  at  her.  "Ain't  he 
ben  plumped  down  there  ever  since  supper,  Claude  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he's  ben  there." 

"  But  Claude  sleeps  in  the  evenings,"  urged  Bidiane. 
"  I  assure  you  that  Bastarache  was  with  us." 

"  Oh,  the  dear  leetle  liar,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie, 
affectionately  embracing  her.  "  But  I'm  glad  to  git 
back  again  to  yeh." 

"  I'm  telling  the  truth,"  said  Bidiane,  desperately. 
"  Can't  you  speak,  Claudine  ?  " 


GHOSTS  BY  SLEEPING    WATER.  399 

"We  did  go,"  said  Claudine,  who  was  still  pos 
sessed  by  a  demon  of  laughter.  "  We  followed 
you." 

"  Followed  us  to  Sleepin'  Water !  You're  lyin', 
too.  Sakerje,  it  was  awful  to  see  me  mother  and  me 
sister  and  the  leetle  dead  child,"  and  she  trotted 
both  feet  wildly  on  the  floor,  while  her  rolling  eye 
sought  comfort  from  Bidiane. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  said  Bidiane.  "Mr.  LeNoir, 
you  will  believe  me.  I  wanted  to  cure  my  aunt  of 
her  foolishness.  We  took  sheets  — 

"  Sheets  ?  "  repeated  Mirabelle.    "  Whose  sheets  ?  " 

"  Yours,  my  aunt,  —  oh,  it  was  very  bad  in  us,  but 
they  were  old  ones  ;  they  had  holes." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  'em  ?  " 

"We  threw  them  in  the  lake." 

"  Come,  now,  look  at  that,  ha,  ha,"  and  Mirabelle 
Marie  laughed  in  a  quavering  voice.  "  I  can  see 
Claudine  throwing  sheets  in  the  lake.  She  would 
make  pickin's  of  'em.  Don't  lie,  Bidiane,  me  girl,  or 
you'll  see  ghosties.  You  want  to  help  your  poor 
aunt,  —  you've  made  up  a  nice  leetle  lie,  but  don't 
tell  it.  See,  Jude  and  Edouard  are  heatin'  some 
soup.  Give  some  to  Agapit  LeNoir  and  take  a  cup 
yourself." 

Bidiane,  with  a  gesture  of  utter  helplessness,  gave 
up  the  discussion  and  sat  down  beside  Agapit. 

"  You  believe  me,  do  you  not  ?  "  she  asked,  under 


400  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

cover  of  the  joyful  bustle  that  arose  when  the  two 
boys  began  to  pass  around  the  soup. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  making  a  wry  face  over  his 
steaming  cup. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  me  ? "  she  asked, 
anxiously. 

Agapit,  although  an  ardent  Acadien,  and  one  bent 
on  advancing  the  interests  of  his  countrymen  in  every 
way,  had  yet  little  patience  with  the  class  to  which 
Mirabelle  Marie  belonged.  Apparently  kind  and 
forbearing  with  them,  he  yet  left  them  severely  alone. 
His  was  the  party  of  progress,  and  he  had  been  half 
amused,  half  scornful  of  the  efforts  that  Bidiane  had 
put  forth  to  educate  her  deficient  relative. 

"On  general  principles,"  he  said,  coolly,  "it  is 
better  not  to  chase  a  fat  aunt  through  dark  woods  ; 
yet,  in  this  case,  I  would  say  it  has  done  good." 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  be  heartless,"  said  Bidiane, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  I  wished  to  teach  her  a 
lesson." 

"  Well,  you  have  done  so.  Hear  her  swear  that 
she  will  go  to  mass,  —  she  will,  too.  The  only  way 
to  work  upon  such  a  nature  is  through  fear." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  her  go  to  mass,  but  I  did  not 
wish  her  to  go  in  this  way." 

"  Be  thankful  that  you  have  attained  your  object," 
he  said,  dryly.  "  Now  I  must  go.  I  hoped  to  spend 
the  evening  with  you,  and  hear  you  sing." 


GHOSTS  BY  SLEEPING    WATER.  401 

"  You  will  come  again,  soon  ?  "  said  Bidiane,  follow 
ing  him  to  the  door. 

"  It  is  a  good  many  miles  to  come,  and  a  good 
many  to  go  back,  mademoiselle.  I  have  not  always 
the  time  —  and,  besides  that,  I  have  soon  to  go  to 
Halifax  on  business." 

"Well,  I  thank  you  for  keeping  your  promise  to 
come,"  said  Bidiane,  humbly,  and  with  gratitude. 
She  was  completely  unnerved  by  the  events  of  the 
evening,  and  was  in  no  humor  to  find  fault. 

Agapit  clapped  his  hat  firmly  on  his  head  as  a  gust 
of  wind  whirled  across  the  yard  and  tried  to  take  it 
from  him. 

"We  are  always  glad  to  see  you  here,"  said  Bidi 
ane,  wistfully,  as  she  watched  him  step  across  to  the 
picket  fence,  where  his  white  horse  shone  through 
the  darkness  ;  "  though  I  suppose  you  have  pleasant 
company  in  Weymouth.  I  have  been  introduced  to 
some  nice  English  girls  from  there." 

"  Yes,  there  are  nice  ones,"  he  said.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  more  of  them,  but  I  am  usually  busy  in  the 
afternoons  and  evenings." 

"  Do  not  work  too  hard,  —  that  is  a  mistake.  One 
must  enjoy  life  a  little." 

He  gathered  up  the  reins  in  his  hands  and  paused 
a  minute  before  he  stepped  into  the  buggy.  "  I 
suppose  I  seem  very  old  to  you." 

She  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  the  wind  dying 


4O2  ROSE    A    CHARLITl^E. 

down  a  little  seemed  to  take  the  words  from  her  lips 
and  softly  breathe  them  against  his  dark,  quiet  face. 
"  Not  so  very  old,  —  not  as  old  as  you  did  at  first. 
If  I  were  as  old  as  you,  I  should  not  do  such  silly 
things." 

He  stared  solemnly  at  her  wind-blown  figure  sway 
ing  lightly  to  and  fro  on  the  gravel,  and  at  the  little 
hands  put  up  to  keep  her  dishevelled  hair  from  her 
eyes  and  cheeks,  which  were  both  glowing  from 
her  hurried  scamper  home.  "  Are  you  really  worried 
because  you  played  this  trick  on  your  aunt  ? " 

"  Yes,  terribly,  she  has  been  like  a  mother  to  me. 
I  would  be  ashamed  for  Mr.  Nimmo  to  know." 

"  And  will  you  lie  awake  to-night  and  vex  yourself 
about  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  —  how  can  you  tell  ?  Perhaps  you 
also  have  troubles." 

Agapit  laughed  in  sudden  and  genuine  amusement. 
"  Mademoiselle,  my  cousin,  let  me  say  something  to 
you  that  you  may  perhaps  remember  when  you  are 
older.  It  is  this  :  you  have  at  present  about  as  much 
comprehension  and  appreciation  of  real  heart  trouble, 
and  of  mental  struggles  that  tear  one  first  this  way, 
then  that  way,  —  you  have  about  as  much  understand 
ing  of  them  as  has  that  kitten  sheltering  itself  behind 
you." 

Bidiane  quietly  stowed  away  this  remark  among 
the  somewhat  heterogeneous  furniture  of  her  mind  ; 


GHOSTS   BY  SLEETING    WATER.  403 

then  she  said,  "  I  feel  quite  old  when  I  talk  to  my 
aunt  and  to  Claudine." 

"  You  are  certainly  ahead  of  them  in  some  mental 
experiences,  but  you  are  not  yet  up  to  some  other 
people." 

"  I  am  not  up  to  Madame  de  Foret,"  she  said, 
gently,  "  nor  to  you.  I  feel  sure  now  that  you  have 
some  troubles." 

"  And  what  do  you  imagine  they  are  ?  " 

"  I  imagine  that  they  are  things  that  you  will  get 
over,"  she  said,  with  spirit.  "You  are  not  a  coward." 

He  smiled,  and  softly  bade  her  good  night. 

"Good  night,  mon  cousin,"  she  said,  gravely,  and 
taking  the  crying  kitten  in  her  arms,  she  put  her 
head  on  one  side  and  listened  until  the  sound  of  the 
carriage  wheels  grew  faint  in  the  distance. 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

FAIKE     BOMBANCE. 

"  Could  but  our  ancestors  retrieve  their  fate, 
And  see  their  offspring  thus  degenerate, 
How  we  contend  for  birth  and  names  unknown  ; 
And  build  on  their  past  acts,  and  not  our  own ; 
They'd  cancel  records  and  their  tombs  deface, 
And  then  disown  the  vile,  degenerate  race ; 
For  families  is  all  a  cheat, 
'Tis  personal  virtue  only,  makes  us  great." 

THE  TRUE  BORN  ENGLISHMAN.     DEFOE. 

BIDIANE  was  late  for  supper,  and  Claudine  was 
regretfully  remarking  that  the  croquettes  and  the 
hot  potatoes  in  the  oven  would  all  be  burnt  to  cin 
ders,  when  the  young  person  herself  walked  into 
the  kitchen,  her  face  a  fiery  crimson,  a  row  of  tiny 
beads  of  perspiration  at  the  conjunction  of  her 
smooth  forehead  with  her  red  hair. 

"I  have  had  a  glorious  ride,"  she  said,  opening  the 
door  of  the  big  oven  and  taking  out  the  hot  dishes. 

Claudine  laid  aside  the  towel  with  which  she  was 
wiping  the  cups  and  saucers  that  Mirabelle  Marie 

404 


FA  IRE   BOMBANCE.  405 

washed.  "  Go  sit  down  at  the  table,  Bidiane ;  you 
must  be  weary." 

The  girl,  nothing  loath,  went  to  the  dining-room, 
while  Claudine  brought  her  in  hot  coffee,  buttered 
toast,  and  preserved  peaches  and  cream,  and  then 
returning  to  the  kitchen  watched  her  through  the 
open  door,  as  she  satisfied  the  demands  of  a  certainly 
prosperous  appetite. 

"  And  yet,  it  is  not  food  I  want,  as  much  as  drink," 
said  Bidiane,  gaily,  as  she  poured  herself  out  a  second 
glass  of  milk.  "  Ah,  the  bicycle,  Claudine.  If  you 
rode,  you  would  know  how  one's  mouth  feels  like  a 
dry  bone." 

"  I  think  I  would  like  a  wheel,"  said  Claudine, 
modestly.  "  I  have  enough  money  saved." 

"  Have  you  ?  Then  you  must  get  one,  and  I  will 
teach  you  to  ride." 

"  How  would  one  go  about  it  ?  " 

"We  will  do  it  in  this  way,"  said  Bidiane,  in  a 
businesslike  manner,  for  she  loved  to  arrange  the 
affairs  of  other  people.  "  How  much  money  have 
you  ? " 

"  I  have  one  hundred  dollars." 

"  '  Pon  me  soul  an'  body,  I'd  have  borrered  some  if 
I'd  known  that,"  interrupted  Mirabelle  Marie,  with  a 
chuckle. 

"Good  gracious,"  observed  Bidiane,  "you  don't 
want  more  than  half  that.  We  will  give  fifty  to  one 


406  XOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

of  the  men  on  the  schooners.  Isn't  La  Sauterelle 
going  to  Boston,  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  the  cook  was  just  in  for  yeast." 

"  Has  he  a  head  for  business  ? " 

"  Pretty  fair." 

"  Does  he  know  anything  about  machines  ? " 

"  He  once  sold  sewing-machines,  and  he  also  would 
show  how  to  work  them." 

"  The  very  man,  —  we  will  give  him  the  fifty  dollars 
and  tell  him  to  pick  you  out  a  good  wheel  and  bring 
it  back  in  the  schooner." 

"  Then  there  will  be  no  duty  to  pay,"  said  Claudine, 
joyfully. 

"  H'm,  —  well,  perhaps  we  had  better  pay  the  duty," 
said  Bidiane ;  "  it  won't  be  so  very  much.  It  is  a 
great  temptation  to  smuggle  things  from  the  States, 
but  I  know  we  shouldn't.  By  the  way,  I  must  tell 
Mirabelle  Marie  a  good  joke  I  just  heard  up  the 
Bay.  My  aunt,  —  where  are  you  ?  " 

Mirabelle  Marie  came  into  the  room  and  seated 
herself  near  Claudine. 

"  Marc  a  Jaddus  a  Dominique's  little  girl  gave  him 
away,"  said  Bidiane,  laughingly.  "  She  ran  over  to 
the  custom-house  in  Belliveau's  Cove  and  told  the 
man  what  lovely  things  her  papa  had  brought  from 
Boston,  in  his  schooner,  and  the  customs  man  hurried 
over,  and  Marc  had  to  pay  —  I  must  tell  you,  too,  that 
I  bought  some  white  ribbon  for  Alzelie  Gauterot,  while 


FAIRP:  BOMBANCE.  407 

I  was  in  the  Cove,"  and  Bidiane  pulled  a  little  parcel 
from  her  pocket. 

Mirabelle  Marie  was  intensely  interested.  Ever 
since  the  affair  of  the  ghosts,  which  Bidiane  had  given 
up  trying  to  persuade  her  was  not  ghostly,  but  very 
material,  she  had  become  deeply  religious,  and  took 
her  whole  family  to  mass  and  vespers  every  Sunday. 

Just  now  the  children  of  the  parish  were  in  train 
ing  for  their  first  communion.  She  watched  the 
little  creatures  daily  trotting  up  the  road  towards 
the  church  to  receive  instruction,  and  she  hoped  that 
her  boys  would  soon  be  among  them.  In  the  small 
daughter  of  her  next-door  neighbor,  who  was  to  make 
her  first  communion  with  the  others,  she  took  a  special 
interest,  and  in  her  zeal  had  offered  to  make  the  dress, 
which  kind  office  had  devolved  upon  Bidiane  and 
Claudine. 

"  Also,  I  have  been  thinking  of  a  scheme  to  save 
money,"  said  Bidiane.  "  For  a  veil  we  can  just  take 
off  this  fly  screen,"  and  she  pointed  to  white  netting 
on  the  table.  "  No  one  but  you  and  Claudine  will 
know.  It  is  fine  and  soft,  and  can  be  freshly  done 
up." 

"  Mon  jheu  !  but  you  are  smart,  and  a  real  Aca- 
dien  brat,"  said  her  aunt.  "  Claudine,  will  you  go 
to  the  door  ?  Some  divil  rings,  —  that  is,  some  lady 
or  gentleman,"  she  added,  as  she  caught  a  menacing 
glance  from  Bidiane. 


408  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  If  you  keep  a  hotel  you  must  always  be  glad  to 
see  strangers,"  said  Bidiane,  severely.  "It  is  money 
in  your  pocket." 

"  But  such  a  trouble,  and  I  am  sleepy." 

"  If  you  are  not  careful  you  will  have  to  give  up 
this  inn,  —  however,  I  must  not  scold,  for  you  do  far 
better  than  when  I  first  came." 

"  It  is  the  political  gentleman,"  said  Claudine, 
entering,  and  noiselessly  closing  the  door  behind 
her.  "  He  who  has  been  going  up  and  down  the 
Bay  for  a  day  or  two.  He  wishes  supper  and  a 
bed." 

"Sakerjt!"  muttered  Mirabelle  Marie,  rising 
with  an  effort.  "  If  I  was  a  man  I  guess  I'd  let 
pollyticks  alone,  and  stay  to  hum.  I  s'ppose  he's 
got  a  nest  with  some  feathers  in  it.  I  guess  you'd 
better  ask  him  out,  though.  There's  enough  to  start 
him,  ain't  there  ? "  and  she  waddled  out  to  the 
kitchen. 

"Ah,  the  political  gentleman,"  said  Bidiane.  "It 
was  he  for  whom  I  helped  Maggie  Guilbaut  pick 
blackberries,  yesterday.  They  expected  him  to  call, 
and  were  going  to  offer  him  berries  and  cream." 

Mirabelle  Marie,  on  going  to  the  kitchen,  had  left 
her  niece  sitting  composedly  at  the  table,  only  lifting 
an  eyelid  to  glance  at  the  door  by  which  the  stranger 
would  enter ;  but  when  she  returned,  as  she  almost 
immediately  did,  to  ask  the  gentleman  whether  he 


"  '  EITHER    THAT    MAN    OR    I    MUST    LEAVE    THIS    HOUSE.'  " 


FAIRE   BOMBANCE.  409 

would  prefer  tea  to  coffee,  a  curious  spectacle  met 
her  gaze. 

Bidiane,  with  a  face  that  was  absolutely  furious, 
had  sprung  to  her  feet  and  was  grasping  the  sides 
of  her  bicycle  skirt  with  clenched  hands,  while  the 
stranger,  who  was  a  lean,  dark  man,  with  a  pale, 
rather  pleasing  face,  when  not  disfigured  by  a 
sarcastic  smile,  stood  staring  at  her  as  if  he  re 
membered  seeing  her  before,  but  had  some  difficulty 
in  locating  her  among  his  acquaintances. 

Upon  her  aunt's  appearance,  Bidiane  found  her 
voice.  "  Either  I  or  that  man  must  leave  this 
house,"  she  said,  pointing  a  scornful  finger  at  him. 

Mirabelle  Marie,  who  was  not  easily  shocked, 
was  plainly  so  on  the  present  occasion.  "  Whist, 
Bidiane,"  she  said,  trying  to  pull  her  down  on  her 
chair  ;  "  this  is  the  pollytickle  genl'man,  —  county 
member  they  call  'im." 

"  I  do  not  care  if  he  is  member  for  fifty  coun 
ties,"  said  Bidiane,  in  concentrated  scorn.  "  He  is 
a  libeller,  a  slanderer,  and  I  will  not  stay  under 
the  same  roof  with  him,  —  and  to  think  it  was  for 
him  I  picked  the  blackberries,  —  we  cannot  enter 
tain  you  here,  sir." 

The  expression  of  disagreeable  surprise  with  which 
the  man  with  the  unpleasant  smile  had  regarded  her 
gave  way  to  one  of  cool  disdain.  "  This  is  your 
house,  I  think  ?  "  he  said,  appealing  to  Mirabelle  Marie. 


4IO  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"Yessir,"  she  said,  putting  down  her  tea-caddy, 
and  arranging  both  her  hands  on  her  hips,  in  which 
position  she  would  hold  them  until  the  dispute  was 
finished. 

"And  you  do  not  refuse  me  entertainment?"  he 
went  on,  with  the  same  unpleasant  smile.  "  You 
cannot,  I  think,  as  this  is  a  public  house,  and  you 
have  no  just  reason  for  excluding  me  from  it." 

"  My  aunt,"  said  Bidiane,  flashing  around  to  her 
in  a  towering  passion,  "  if  you  do  not  immediately 
turn  this  man  out-of-doors,  I  shall  never  speak  to 
you  again." 

"  I  be  dhhe"  sputtered  the  confused  landlady, 
"if  I  see  into  this  hash.  Look  at  'em,  Claudine. 
This  genl'man  '11  be  mad  if  I  do  one  thing,  an'  Biddy 
'11  take  my  head  off  if  I  do  another.  Sakerjt ! 
You've  got  to  fit  it  out  yourselves." 

"  Listen,  my  aunt,"  said  Bidiane,  excitedly,  and 
yet  with  an  effort  to  control  herself.  "  I  will  tell 
you  what  happened.  On  my  way  here  I  was  in  a 
hotel  in  Halifax.  I  had  gone  there  with  some 
people  from  the  steamer  who  were  taking  charge 
of  me.  We  were  on  our  way  to  our  rooms.  We 
were  all  speaking  English.  No  one  would  think 
that  there  was  a  French  person  in  the  party.  We 
passed  a  gentleman,  this  gentleman,  who  stood  out 
side  his  door  ;  he  was  speaking  to  a  servant.  '  Bring 
me  quickly,'  he  said,  '  some  water,  —  some  hot  water. 


FAIRE   BOMBANCE.  4!  I 

I  have  been  down  among  the  evil-smelling  French  of 
Clare.  I  must  go  again,  and  I  want  a  good  wash 
first.'  " 

Mirabelle  Marie  was  by  no  means  overcome  with 
horror  at  the  recitation  of  this  trespass  on  the  part 
of  her  would-be  guest  ;  but  Claudine's  eyes  blazed 
and  flashed  on  the  stranger's  back  until  he  moved 
slightly,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  he  felt 
their  power. 

"Imagine,"  cried  Bidiane,  "he  called  us  'evil- 
smelling,'  -  —  we,  the  best  housekeepers  in  the  world, 
whose  stoves  shine,  whose  kitchen  floors  are  as  white 
as  the  beach  !  I  choked  with  wrath.  I  ran  up  to 
him  and  said,  'Moi,jc  snis  Acadicnne '  "  (I  am  an 
Acadienne).  "  Did  I  not,  sir  ?  " 

The  stranger  lifted  his  eyebrows  indulgently  and 
satirically,  but  did  not  speak. 

"And  he  was  astonished,"  continued  Bidiane. 
"  Ma  foi,  but  he  was  astonished  !  He  started,  and 
stared  at  me,  and  I  said,  '  I  will  tell  you  what  you 
are,  sir,  unless  you  apologize.' ' 

"  I  guess  yeh  apologized,  didn't  yeh  ? "  said  Mira 
belle  Marie,  mildly. 

"The  young  lady  is  dreaming,"  said  the  stranger, 
coolly,  and  he  seated  himself  at  the  table.  "  Can  you 
let  me  have  something  to  eat  at  once,  madame  ?  I 
have  a  brother  who  resembles  me ;  perhaps  she  saw 
him." 


412  AOS1?  A    CHARLITTE. 

Bidiane  grew  so  pale  with  wrath,  and  trembled  so 
violently  that  Claudine  ran  to  support  her,  and  cried, 
"Tell  us,  Bidiane,  what  did  you  say  to  this  bad 
man  ? " 

Bidiane  slightly  recovered  herself.  "  I  said  to  him, 
'  Sir,  I  regret  to  tell  you  that  you  are  lying.'  ' 

The  man  at  the  table  surveyed  her  in  intense  irri 
tation.  "  I  do  not  know  where  you  come  from,  young 
woman,"  he  said,  hastily,  "but  you  look  Irish." 

"And  if  I  were  not  Acadien  I  would  be  Irish," 
she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  for  they  also  suffer  for  their 
country.  Good-by,  my  aunt,  I  am  going  to  Rose  a 
Charlitte.  I  see  you  wish  to  keep  this  story-teller." 

"Hole  on,  hole  on,"  ejaculated  Mirabelle  Marie  in 
distress.  "  Look  here,  sir,  you've  gut  me  in  a  fix, 
and  you've  gut  to  git  me  out  of  it." 

"  I  shall  not  leave  your  house  unless  you  tell  me  to 
do  so,"  he  said,  in  cool,  quiet  anger. 

Bidiane  stretched  out  her  hands  to  him,  and  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  exclaimed,  pleadingly,  "  Say  only 
that  you  regret  having  slandered  the  Acadiens.  I 
will  forget  that  you  put  my  people  to  shame  before 
the  English,  for  they  all  knew  that  I  was  coming  to 
Clare.  We  will  overlook  it.  Acadiens  are  not  un 
generous,  sir." 

"As  I  said  before,  you  are  dreaming,"  responded 
the  stranger,  in  a  restrained  fury.  "  I  never  was  so 
put  upon  in  my  life.  I  never  saw  you  before." 


FAIRE    BOMBANCE.  413 

Bidiane  drew  herself  up  like  an  inspired  prophetess. 
"  Beware,  sir,  of  the  wrath  of  God.     You  lied  before, 
-you  are  lying  now." 

The  man  fell  into  such  a  repressed  rage  that 
Mirabelle  Marie,  who  was  the  only  unembarrassed 
spectator,  inasmuch  as  she  was  weak  in  racial  loves 
and  hatreds,  felt  called  upon  to  decide  the  case.  The 
gentleman,  she  saw,  was  the  story-teller.  Bidiane, 
who  had  not  been  particularly  truthful  as  a  child, 
had  yet  never  told  her  a  falsehood  since  her  return 
from  France. 

"  I'm  awful  sorry,  sir,  but  you've  gut  to  go.  I 
brought  up  this  leetle  girl,  an'  her  mother's  dead." 

The  gentleman  rose,  — a  gentleman  no  longer,  but 
a  plain,  common,  very  ugly-tempered  man.  These 
Acadiens  were  actually  turning  him,  an  Englishman, 
out  of  the  inn.  And  he  had  thought  the  whole  peo 
ple  so  meek,  so  spiritless.  He  was  doing  them  such 
an  honor  to  personally  canvass  them  for  votes  for  the 
approaching  election.  His  astonishment  almost  over 
mastered  his  rage,  and  in  a  choking  voice  he  said  to 
Mirabelle  Marie,  "  Your  house  will  suffer  for  this,  — 
you  will  regret  it  to  the  end  of  your  life." 

"  I  know  some  business,"  exclaimed  Claudine,  in 
sudden  and  irrepressible  zeal.  "  I  know  that  you 
wish  to  make  laws,  but  will  our  men  send  you  when 
they  know  what  you  say  ?  " 

He  snatched  his  hat  from  the   seat   behind   him. 


41 4  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

His  election  was  threatened.  Unless  he  chained 
these  women's  tongues,  what  he  had  said  would  run 
up  and  down  the  Bay  like  wildfire,  —  and  yet  a  word 
now  would  stop  it.  Should  he  apologize  ?  A  devil 
rose  in  his  heart.  He  would  not. 

"  Do  your  worst,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  sneering  voice. 
"  You  are  a  pack  of  liars  yourselves,"  and  while 
Bidiane  and  Claudine  stiffened  themselves  with  rage, 
and  Mirabelle  Marie  contemptuously  muttered,  "  Get 
out,  ole  beast,"  he  cast  a  final  malevolent  glance  on 
them,  and  left  the  house. 

For  a  time  the  three  remained  speechless;  then 
Bidiane 'sank  into  her  chair,  pushed  back  her  half- 
eaten  supper,  propped  her  red  head  on  her  hand,  and 
burst  into  passionate  weeping. 

Claudine  stood  gloomily  watching  her,  while  Mira 
belle  Marie  sat  down,  and  shifting  her  hands  from  her 
hips,  laid  them  on  her  trembling  knees.  "  I  guess 
he'll  drive  us  out  of  this,  Biddy,  —  an'  I  like  Sleepin' 
Water." 

Bidiane  lifted  her  face  to  the  ceiling,  just  as  if  she 
were  "  taking  a  vowel,"  her  aunt  reflected,  in  her  far 
from  perfect  English.  "  He  shall  not  ruin  us,  my 
aunt,  —  we  will  ruin  him." 

"  What'll  you  do,  sissy  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  something  about  politics,"  said 
Bidiane,  immediately  becoming  calm.  "  Mr.  Nimmo 
has  explained  to  me  something  about  them,  and  if 


FAIRE    BOMBANCE.  415 

you  listen,  you  will  understand.  In  the  first  place, 
do  you  know  what  politics  are  ? "  and  hastily  wiping 
her  eyes,  she  intently  surveyed  the  two  women  who 
were  hanging  on  her  words. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  her  aunt,  joyfully.  "It's 
when  men  quit  work,  an'  gab,  an'  git  red  in  the  face, 
an'  pass  the  bottle,  an'  pick  rows,  to  fine  out  which 
shall  go  up  to  the  city  of  Boston  to  make  laws  an' 
sit  in  a  big  room  with  lots  of  other  men." 

Bidiane,  with  an  impatient  gesture,  turned  to 
Claudine.  "  You  know  better  than  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  —  a  little,"  said  the  black-eyed  beauty, 
contemptuously. 

"My  aunt,"  said  Bidiane,  solemnly,  "you  have 
been  out  in  the  world,  and  yet  you  have  many  things 
to  learn.  Politics  is  a  science,  and  deep,  very  deep." 

"Is  it?"  said  her  aunt,  humbly.  "An'  what's  a 
science  ? " 

"  A  science  is  —  well,  a  science  is  something  won 
derfully  clever  —  when  one  knows  a  great  deal. 
Now  this  Dominion  of  Canada  in  which  we  live  is 
large,  very  large,  and  there  are  two  parties  of  politi 
cians  in  it.  You  know  them,  Claudine?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  the  young  woman,  promptly ; 
"they  are  Liberals  and  Conservatives." 

"That  is  right ;  and  just  now  the  Premier  of  the 
Dominion  is  a  Frenchman,  my  aunt,  —  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  knew  that,  — and  we  are  proud  of  him." 


41 6  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"An'  what's  the  Premier  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  chief  one,  —  the  one  who  stands  over 
the  others,  when  they  make  the  laws." 

"  Oh,  the  boss  !  — •  you  will  tell  him  about  this  bad 
man." 

"  No,  it  would  grieve  him  too  much,  for  the  Pre 
mier  is  always  a  good  man,  who  never  does  anything 
wrong.  This  bad  man  will  impose  on  him,  and  try 
to  get  him  to  promise  to  let  him  go  to  Ottawa  —  oh, 
by  the  way,  Claudine,  we  must  explain  about  that. 
My  aunt,  you  know  that  there  are  two  cities  to  which 
politicians  go  to  make  the  laws.  One  is  the  capital." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  —  in  Boston  city." 

"  Nonsense,  —  Boston  is  in  the  United  States. 
We  are  in  Canada.  Halifax  is  the  capital  of  Nova 
Scotia." 

"  But  all  our  folks  go  to  Boston  when  they  travels," 
said  Mirabelle  Marie,  in  a  slightly  injured  tone. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  —  the  foolish  people ;  they 
should  go  to  Halifax.  Well,  that  is  where  the  big 
house  is  in  which  they  make  the  laws.  I  saw  it  when 
I  was  there,  and  it  has  pictures  of  kings  and  queens 
in  it.  Now,  when  a  man  becomes  too  clever  for  this 
house,  they  send  him  to  Ottawa,  where  the  Premier 
is." 

"Yes,  I  remember,  —  the  good  Frenchman." 

"  Well,  this  bad  man  now  wishes  to  go  to  Halifax ; 
then  if  he  is  ambitious, — and  he  is  bad  enough  to 


FAIR'E  BOMBANCE. 

be  anything,  —  he  may  wish  to  go  to  Ottawa.  But 
we  must  stop  him  right  away  before  he  does  more 
mischief,  for  all  men  think  he  is  good.  Mr.  Guil- 
baut  was  praising  him  yesterday." 

"  He  didn't  say  he  is  bad  ? " 

"  No,  no,  he  thinks  him  very  good,  and  says  he 
will  be  elected ;  but  we  know  him  to  be  a  liar,  and 
should  a  liar  make  laws  for  his  country  ? " 

"  A  liar  should  stay  to  hum,  where  he  is  known," 
was  the  decisive  response. 

"  Very  good,  —  now  should  we  not  try  to  drive 
this  man  out  of  Clare  ?  " 

"  But  what  can  we  do  ?  "  asked  Mirabelle  Marie. 
"  He  is  already  out  an'  lying  like  the  divil  about  us 
—  that  is,  like  a  man  out  of  the  woods." 

"We  can  talk,"  said  her  niece,  seriously.  "There 
are  women's  rights,  you  know." 

"  Women's  rights,"  repeated  her  aunt,  thoughtfully. 
"  It  is  not  in  the  prayer-book." 

"  No,  of  course  not." 

"  Come  now,  Biddy,  tell  us  what  it  is." 

"  It  is  a  long  subject,  my  aunt.  It  would  take  too 
many  words  to  explain,  though  Mr.  Nimmo  has  often 
told  me  about  it.  Women  who  believe  that  —  can 
do  as  men.  Why  should  we  not  vote,  —  you,  and  I, 
and  Claudine  ? " 

"  I  dunno.     I  guess  the  men  won't  let  us." 

"  I  should  like  to  vote,"  said  Bidiane,  stoutly,  "but 


41 8  ROSE   A    CHARLTTTE. 

even  though  we  cannot,  we  can  tell  the  men  on  the 
Bay  of  this  monster,  and  they  will  send  him  home." 

"  All  right,"  said  her  aunt ;  while  Claudine,  who  had 
been  sitting  with  knitted  brows  during  the  last  few 
minutes,  exclaimed,  "  I  have  it,  Bidiane ;  let  us  make 
bombance  "  (feasting).  "  Do  you  know  what  it  means  ? " 

No,  Bidiane  did  not,  but  Mirabelle  Marie  did,  and 
immediately  began  to  make  a  gurgling  noise  in  her 
throat.  "  Once  I  helped  to  make  it  in  the  house  of 
an  aunt.  Glory !  that  was  fun.  But  the  tin,  Clau 
dine,  where'll  you  git  that  ?  " 

"  My  one  hundred  dollars,"  cried  the  black-eyed 
assistant.  "  I  will  give  them  to  my  country,  for  I  hate 
that  man.  I  will  do  without  the  wheel." 

"  But  what  is  this  ?  "  asked  Bidiane,  reproachfully. 
"What  are  you  agreeing  to  ?  I  do  not  understand." 

"Tell  her,  Claudine,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie,  with  a 
proud  wave  of  her  hand.  "  She's  English,  yeh 
know." 

Claudine  explained  the  phrase,  and  for  the  next 
hour  the  three,  with  chairs  drawn  close  together, 
nodded,  talked,  and  gesticulated,  while  laying  out  a 
feminine  electioneering  campaign. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

LOVE    AND    POLITICS. 

"  Calm  with  the  truth  of  life,  deep  with  the  love  of  loving, 
New,  yet  never  unknown,  my  heart  takes  up  the  tune. 
Singing  that  needs  no  words,  joy  that  needs  no  proving, 
Sinking  in  one  long  dream  as  summer  bides  with  June." 

ONE  morning,  three  weeks  later,  Rose,  on  getting 
up  and  going  out  to  the  sunny  yard  where  she  kept 
her  fancy  breed  of  fowls,  found  them  all  overcome 
by  some  strange  disorder.  The  morning  was  bright' 
and  inspiring,  yet  they  were  all  sleeping  heavily  and 
stupidly  under,  instead  of  upon,  their  usual  roosting- 
place. 

She  waked  up  one  or  two,  ran  her  fingers  through 
their  showy  plumage,  and,  after  receiving  remon 
strating  glances  from  reproachful  and  recognizing 
eyes,  softly  laid  them  down  again,  and  turned  her 
attention  to  a  resplendent  red  and  gold  cock,  who 
alone  had  not  succumbed  to  the  mysterious  malady, 
and  was  staggering  to  and  fro,  eyeing  her  with -a 
doubtful,  yet  knowing  look. 

"Come,  Fiddeding,"  she  said,  gently,  "tell  me 
what  has  happened  to  these  poor  hens  ?  " 

419 


42O  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Fiddeding,  instead  of  enlightening  her,  swaggered 
towards  the  fence,  and,  after  many  failures,  suc 
ceeded  in  climbing  to  it  and  in  propping  his  tail 
against  a  post. 

Then  he  flapped  his  gorgeous  wings,  and  opened 
his  beak  to  crow,  but  in  the  endeavor  lost  his  bal 
ance,  and  with  a  dismal  squawk  fell  to  the  ground. 
Sheepishly  resigning  himself  to  his  fate,  he  tried  to 
gain  the  ranks  of  the  somniferous  hens,  but,  not  suc 
ceeding,  fell  down  where  he  was,  and  hid  his  head 
under  his  wing. 

A  slight  noise  caught  Rose's  attention,  and  look 
ing  up,  she  found  Jovite  leaning  against  the  fence, 
and  grinning  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  the  matter  with  the 
hens  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  madam e  ;  if  you  come  to  the  stable,  I  will 
show  you  what  they  have  been  taking." 

Rose,  with  a  grave  face,  visited  the  stable,  and 
then  instructed  him  to  harness  her  pony  to  the  cart 
and  bring  him  around  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

Half  an  hour  later  she  was  driving  towards  Wey- 
mouth.  As  it  happened  to  be  Saturday,  it  was 
market-day,  and  the  general  shopping-time  for  the 
farmers  and  the  fishermen  all  along  the  Bay,  and 
even  from  back  in  the  woods.  Many  of  them,  with 
wives  and  daughters  in  their  big  wagons,  were  on 
their  way  to  sell  butter,  eggs,  and  farm  produce,  and 


LOVE   AND   POLITICS.  421 

obtain,  in  exchange,  groceries  and  dry  goods,  that 
they  would  find  in  larger  quantities  and  in  greater 
varieties  in  Weymouth  than  in  the  smaller  villages 
along  the  shore. 

Upon  reaching  Weymouth,  she  stopped  on  the 
principal  street,  that  runs  across  a  bridge  over  the 
lovely  Sissiboo  River,  and  leaving  the  staid  and  sober 
pony  to  brush  the  flies  from  himself  without  the 
assistance  of  her  whip,  she  knocked  at  the  door  of 
her  cousin's  office. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  voice,  and  she  was  speedily 
confronted  by  Agapit,  who  sat  at  a  table  facing  the 
door. 

He  dropped  his  book  and  sprang  up,  when  he  saw 
her.  "  Oh  !  ma  chere,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  was 
just  feeling  dull." 

She  gently  received  and  retained  both  his  hands 
in  hers.  "  One  often  does  feel  dull  after  a  journey. 
Ah  !  but  I  have  missed  you." 

"  It  has  only  been  two  weeks  — 

"  And  you  have  come  back  with  that  same  weary 
look  on  your  face,"  she  said,  anxiously.  "  Agapit,  I 
try  to  put  that  look  in  the  back  of  my  mind,  but  it 
will  not  stay." 

He  lightly  kissed  her  fingers,  and  drew  a  chair 
beside  his  own  for  her.  "It  amuses  you  to  worry." 

"My  cousin  !  " 

"  I    apologize,  —  you    are    the    soul    of     angelic 


422  ROSE   A    CHARLTTTR. 

concern  for  the  minds  and  bodies  of  your  fellow 
mortals.  And  how  goes  everything  in  Sleeping 
Water  ?  I  have  been  quite  homesick  for  the  good 
old  place." 

Rose,  in  spite  of  the  distressed  expression  that 
still  lingered  about  her  face,  began  to  smile,  and  said, 
impulsively,  "  Once  or  twice  I  have  almost  recalled 
you,  but  I  did  not  like  to  interrupt.  Yours  was  a 
case  at  the  supreme  court,  was  it  not,  if  that  is  the 
way  to  word  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Rose ;  but  has  anything  gone  wrong  ?  You 
mentioned  nothing  in  your  letters,"  and,  as  he  spoke, 
he  took  off  his  glasses  and  began  to  polish  them 
with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Not  wrong,  exactly,  yet  —  '  and  she  laughed. 
"  It  is  Bidiane." 

The  hand  with  which  Agapit  was  manipulating 
his  glasses  trembled  slightly,  and  hurriedly  putting 
them  on,  he  pushed  back  the  papers  on  the  table 
before  him,  and  gave  her  an  acute  and  undivided 
attention.  "  Some  one  wants  to  marry  her,  I  sup 
pose,"  he  said,  hastily.  "She  is  quite  a  flirt." 

"  No,  no,  not  yet,  —  Pius  Poirier  may,  by  and  by, 
but  do  not  be  too  severe  with  her,  Agapit.  She  has 
no  time  to  think  of  lovers  now.  She  is  —  but  have 
you  not  heard  ?  Surely  you  must  have  —  every  one  is 
laughing  about  it." 

"  I  have  heard  nothing.      I  returned  late  last  night. 


LOVE   AND   POLITICS.  423 

I  came  directly  here  this  morning.  I  intended  to  go 
to  see  you  to-morrow." 

"  I  thought  you  would,  but  I  could  not  wait.  Lit 
tle  Bidiane  should  be  stopped  at  once,  or  she  will 
become  notorious  and  get  into  the  papers,  —  I  was 
afraid  it  might  already  be  known  in  Halifax." 

"  My  dear  Rose,  there  are  people  in  Halifax  who 
never  heard  of  Clare,  and  who  do  not  know  that  there 
are  even  a  score  of  Acadiens  left  in  the  country ;  but 
what  is  she  doing?"  and  he  masked  his  impatience 
under  an  admirable  coolness. 

"  She  says  she  is  making  bombance"  said  Rose, 
and  she  struggled  to  repress  a  second  laugh  ;  "but  I 
will  begin  from  the  first,  as  you  know  nothing.  The 
very  day  you  left,  that  Mr.  Greening,  who  has  been 
canvassing  the  county  for  votes,  went  to  our  inn, 
and  Bidiane  recognized  him  as  a  man  who  had 
spoken  ill  of  the  Acadiens  in  her  presence  in  Hali 
fax." 

"  What  had  he  said  ?  " 

"He  said  that  they  were  '  evil-smelling,'  "  said 
Rose,  with  reluctance. 

"Oh,  indeed, — he  did,"  and  Agapit's  lip  curled. 
"  I  would  not  have  believed  it  of  Greening.  He  is 
rather  a  decent  fellow.  Sarcastic,  you  know,  but 
not  a  fool,  by  any  means.  Bidiane,  I  suppose,  cut 
him." 

"  No,  she  did  not  cut  him  ;  he  had  not  been  intro- 


424  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

duced.  She  asked  him  to  apologize,  and  he  would 
not.  Then  she  told  Mirabelle  Marie  to  request  him 
to  leave  the  house.  He  did  so." 

"  Was  he  angry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  insulting ;  and  you  can  figure  to  your 
self  into  what  kind  of  a  state  our  quick-tempered 
Bidiane  became.  She  talked  to  Claudine  and  her 
aunt,  and  they  agreed  to  pass  Mr.  Greening's  remark 
up  and  down  the  Bay." 

Agapit  began  to  laugh.  Something  in  his  cousin's 
strangely  excited  manner,  in  the  expression  of  her 
face,  usually  so  delicately  colored,  now  so  deeply 
flushed  and  bewildered  over  Bidiane's  irrepressibility, 
amused  him  intensely,  but  most  of  all  he  laughed 
from  sheer  gladness  of  heart,  that  the  question  to  be 
dealt  with  was  not  one  of  a'  lover  for  their  distant 
and  youthful  cousin. 

Rose  was  delighted  to  see  him  in  such  good 
spirits.  "  But  there  is  more  to  come,  Agapit. 
The  thing  grew.  At  first,  Bidiane  contented  her 
self  with  flying  about  on  her  wheel  and  telling  all 
the  Acadien  girls  what  a  bad  man  Mr.  Greening 
was  to  say  such  a  thing,  and  they  must  not  let  their 
fathers  vote  for  him.  Following  this,  Claudine,  who 
is  very  excited  in  her  calm  way,  began  to  drive 
Mirabelle  Marie  about.  They  stayed  at  home  only 
long  enough  to  prepare  meals,  then  they  went. 
It  is  all  up  and  down  the  Bay,  —  that  wretched 


LOVE   AND   POLITICS.  42$ 

epithet  of  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Greening,  —  and 
while  the  men  laugh,  the  women  are  furious.  They 
cannot  recover  from  it." 

"Well,  'evil-smelling'  is  not  a  pretty  adjective," 
said  Agapit,  with  his  lips  still  stretched  back  from 
his  white  teeth.  "At  Bidiane's  age,  what  a  rage 
I  should  have  been  in  !  " 

"  But  you  are  in  the  affair  now,"  said  Rose,  help 
lessly,  "and  you  must  not  be  angry." 

"  I !  "  he  ejaculated,  suddenly  letting  fall  a  ruler 
that  he  had  been  balancing  on  his  ringer. 

"  Yes,  — at  first  there  was  no  talk  of  another  can 
didate.  It  was  only,  '  Let  the  slanderous  Mr.  Green 
ing  be  driven  away ; '  but,  as  I  said,  the  affair  grew. 
You  know  our  people  are  mostly  Liberals.  Mr. 
Greening  is  the  new  one ;  you,  too,  are  one.  Of 
course  there  is  old  Mr.  Gray,  who  has  been  elected 
for  some  years.  One  afternoon  the  blacksmith  in 
Sleeping  Water  said,  jokingly,  to  Bidiane,  '  You  are 
taking  away  one  of  our  candidates  ;  you  must  give  us 
another.'  He  was  mending  her  wheel  at  the  time, 
and  I  was  present  to  ask  him  to  send  a  hoe  to  Jovite. 
Bidiane  hesitated  a  little  time.  She  looked  down  the 
Bay,  she  looked  up  here  towards  Weymouth,  then 
she  shot  a  quick  glance  at  me  from  her  curious  yel 
low  eyes,  and  said,  '  There  is  my  far-removed  cousin, 
Agapit  LeNoir.  He  is  a  good  Acadien  ;  he  is  also 
clever.  What  do  you  want  of  an  Englishman  ? ' 


426  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

'  By  Jove !  '  said  the  blacksmith,  and  he  slapped  his 
leather  apron,  —  you  know  he  has  been  much  in  the 
States,  Agapit,  and  he  is  very  wide  in  his  opinions, 
—  '  By  Jove  ! '  he  said,  '  we  couldn't  have  a  better.  I 
never  thought  of  him.  He  is  so  quiet  nowadays, 
though  he  used  to  be  a  firebrand,  that  one  forgets 
him.  I  guess  he'd  go  in  by  acclamation.'  Agapit, 
what  is  acclamation  ?  I  searched  in  my  dictionary, 
and  it  said,  'a.  clapping  of  hands.'" 

Agapit  was  thunderstruck.  He  stared  at  her  con 
fusedly  for  a  few  seconds,  then  he  exclaimed,  "  The 
dear  little  diablette  !  " 

"Perhaps  I  should  have  told  you  before,"  said 
Rose,  eagerly,  "  but  I  hated  to  write  anything 
against  Bidiane,  she  is  so  charming,  though  so  self- 
willed.  But  yesterday  I  began  to  think  that  people 
may  suppose  you  have  allowed  her  to  make  use  of 
your  name.  She  chatters  of  you  all  the  time,  and  I 
believe  that  you  will  be  asked  to  become  one  of  the 
members  for  this  county.  Though  the  talk  has  been 
mostly  among  the  women,  they  are  influencing  the 
men,  and  last  evening  Mr.  Greening  had  a  quarrel 
with  the  Comeaus,  and  went  away." 

"  I  must  go  see  her,  — this  must  be  stopped,"  said 
Agapit,  rising  hastily. 

Rose  got  up,  too.  "  But  stay  a  minute,  —  hear  all. 
The  naughty  thing  that  Bidiane  has  done  is  about 
money,  but  I  will  not  tell  you  that.  You  must  ques- 


LOVE  AND   POLITICS.  427 

tion  her.  This  only  I  can  say  :  my  hens  are  all  quite 
drunk  this  morning." 

"  Quite  drunk  !  "  safd  Agapit,  and  he  paused  with 
his  arms  half  in  a  dust  coat  that  he  had  taken  from 
a  hook  on  the  wall.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

Rose  suffocated  a  laugh  in  her  throat,  and  said, 
seriously,  "  When  Jovite  got  up  this  morning,  he 
found  them  quite  weak  in  their  legs.  They  took 
no  breakfast,  they  wished  only  to  drink.  He  had 
to  watch  to  keep  them  from  falling  in  the  river. 
Afterwards  they  went  to  sleep,  and  he  searched 
the  stable,  and  found  some  burnt  out  matches, 
where  some  one  had  been  smoking  and  sleeping  in 
the  barn,  also  two  bottles  of  whiskey  hidden  in  a 
barrel  where  one  had  broken  on  some  oats  that 
the  hens  had  eaten.  So  you  see  the  affair  becomes 
serious  when  men  prowl  about  at  night,  and  open 
hen-house  doors,  and  are  in  danger  of  setting  fire 
to  stables." 

Agapit  made  a  grimace.  He  had  a  lively  imagina 
tion,  and  had  readily  supplied  all  these  details.  "  I 
suppose  you  do  not  wish  to  take  me  back  to  Sleep 
ing  Water  ? " 

Rose  hesitated,  then  said,  meekly,  "  Perhaps  it 
would  be  better  for  me  not  to  do  it,  nor  for  you  to 
say  that  I  have  talked  to  you.  Bidiane  speaks  plainly, 
and,  though  I  know  she  likes  me,  she  is  most  ex 
tremely  animated  just  now.  Claudine,  you  know, 


428  ROSE   A    CHARLTTTE. 

spoils  her.  Also,  she  avoids  me  lately,  —  you  will 
not  be  too  severe  with  her.  It  is  so  loving  that  she 
should  work  for  you.  I  think  she  hopes  to  break 
down  some  of  your  prejudice  that  she  says  still  exists 
against  her." 

Rose  could  not  see  her  cousin's  face,  for  he  had 
abruptly  turned  his  back  on  her,  and  was  staring  out 
the  window. 

"You  will  remember,  Agapit,"  she  went  on,  with 
gentle  persistence  ;  "  do  not  be  irritable  with  her  ;  she 
cannot  endure  it  just  at  present." 

"And  why  should  I  be  irritable?"  he  demanded, 
suddenly  wheeling  around.  "  Is  she  not  doing  me  a 
great  honor  ? " 

Rose  fell  back  a  few  steps,  and  clasped  her  amazed 
hands.  This  transfigured  face  was  a  revelation  to 
her.  "You,  too,  Agapit!"  she  managed  to  utter. 

"Yes,  I,  too,"  he  said,  bravely,  while  a  dull,  heavy 
crimson  mantled  his  cheeks.  "  I,  too,  as  well  as  the 
Poirier  boy,  and  half  a  dozen  others ;  and  why  not  ? " 

"  You  love  her,  Agapit  ?  " 

"  Does  it  seem  like  hatred  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  that  is,  no  —  but  certainly  you  have 
treated  her  strangely,  but  I  am  glad,  glad.  I  don't 
know  when  anything  has  so  rejoiced  me,  —  it  takes 
me  back  through  long  years,"  and,  sitting  down,  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  nervous  hands. 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  tell  you,"  said  her  cousin,  hur- 


LOVE   AND   POLITICS.  429 

riedly,  and  he  laid  a  consoling  finger  on  the  back  of 
her  drooping  head.  "  I  wish  now  I  had  kept  it  from 
you." 

"  Ah,  but  I  am  selfish,"  she  cried,  immediately 
lifting  her  tearful  face  to  him.  "  Forgive  me,  —  I 
wish  to  know  everything  that  concerns  you.  Is 
it  this  that  has  made  you  unhappy  lately  ?  " 

With    some    reluctance   he   acknowledged   that   it 


"  But  now  you  will  be  happy,  my  dear  cousin. 
You  must  tell  her  at  once.  Although  she  is  young, 
she  will  understand.  It  will  make  her  more  steady. 
It  is  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  her." 

Agapit  -surveyed  her  in  quiet,  intense  affection. 
"  Softly,  my  dear  girl.  You  and  I  are  too  absorbed 
in  each  other.  There  is  the  omnipotent  Mr.  Nimmo 
to  consult." 

"  He  will  not  oppose.  Oh,  he  will  be  pleased, 
enraptured,  —  I  know  that  he  will.  I  have  never 
thought  of  it  before,  because  of  late  years  you  have 
seemed  not  to  give  your  thoughts  to  marriage,  but 
now  it  comes  to  me  that,  in  sending  her  here,  one 
object  might  have  been  that  she  would  please  you  ; 
that  you  would  please  her.  I  am  sure  of  it  now.  He 
is  sorry  for  the  past,  he  wishes  to  atone,  yet  he  is 
still  proud,  and  cannot  say,  'Forgive  me.'  This 
young  girl  is  the  peace-offering." 

Agapit    smiled    uneasily.       "  Pardon    me    for    the 


430  JROSE   A    CHARLTTTE. 

thought,  but  you  dispose  somewhat  summarily  of 
the  young  girl." 

Rose  threw  out  her  hands  to  him.  "  Your  happi 
ness  is  perhaps  too  much  to  me,  yet  I  would  also 
make  her  happy  in  giving  her  to  you.  She  is  so 
restless,  so  wayward,  —  she  does  not  know  her  own 
mind  yet." 

"  She  seems  to  be  leading  a  pretty  consistent 
course  at  present." 

Rose's  face  was  like  an  exquisitely  tinted  sky  at 
sunrise.  "  Ah  !  this  is  wonderful,  it  overcomes  me  ; 
and  to  think  that  I  should  not  have  suspected  it ! 
You  adore  this  little  Bidiane.  She  is  everything  to 
you,  more  than  I  am,  —  more  than  I  am." 

"  I  love  you  for  that  spice  of  jealousy,"  said 
Agapit,  with  animation.  "  Go  home  now,  dear  girl, 
and  I  will  follow  ;  or  do  you  stay  here,  and  I  will 
start  first." 

"  Yes,  yes,  go  ;  I  will  remain  a  time.  I  will  be 
glad  to  think  this  over." 

"  You  will  not  cry,"  he  said,  anxiously,  pausing 
with  his  hand  on  the  door-knob. 

"  I  will  try  not  to  do  so." 

"  Probably  I  will  have  to  give  her  up,"  he  said, 
doggedly.  "  She  is  a  creature  of  whims,  and  I  must 
not  speak  to  her  yet ;  but  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
suffer." 

Rose   was   deeply  moved.      This  was   no    boyish 


LOVE  AND   POLITICS.  431 

passion,  but  the  unspeakably  bitter,  weary  longing  of 
a  man.  "  If  I  could  not  suffer  with  others  I  would 
be  dead,"  she  said,  simply.  "  My  dear  cousin,  I 
will  pray  for  success  in  this,  your  touching  love- 
affair." 

"  Some  day  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,"  he  said, 
abruptly.  "  I  will  describe  the  strange  influence  that 
she  has  always  had  over  me,  —  an  influence  that  made 
me  tremble  before  her  even  when  she  was  a  tiny  girl, 
and  that  overpowered  me  when  she  lately  returned 
to  us.  However,  this  is  not  the  occasion  to  talk  ; 
my  acknowledgment  of  all  this  has  been  quite  un 
premeditated.  Another  day  it  will  be  more  easy  — 

"  Ah,  Agapit,  how  thou  art  changed,"  she  said, 
gliding  easily  into  French  ;  "  how  I  admire  thee  for 
thy  reserve.  That  gives  thee  more  power  than  thou 
hadst  when  young.  Thou  wilt  win  Bidiane,  —  do  not 
despair." 

"  In  the  meantime  there  are  other,  younger  men," 
he  responded,  in  the  same  language.  "  I  seem  old, 
I  know  that  I  do  to  her." 

"  Old,  and  thou  art  not  yet  thirty  !  I  assure  thee, 
Agapit,  'she  respects  thee  for  thy  age.  She  laughs 
at  thee,  perhaps,  to  thy  face,  but  she  praises  thee 
behind  thy  back." 

"  She  is  not  beautiful,"  said  Agapit,  irrelevantly, 
"yet  every  one  likes  her." 

"  And  dost  thou  not  find  her  beautiful  ?    It  seems 


432  HOSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

to  me  that,  when   I   love,  the  dear  one  cannot   be 
ugly." 

"  Understand  me,  Rose,"  said  her  cousin,  earnestly  ; 
"  once  when  I  loved  a  woman  she  instantly  became 
an  angel,  but  one  gets  over  that.  Bicliane  is  even 
plain-looking  to  me.  It  is  her  soul,  her  spirit,  that 
charms  me,  —  that  little  restless,  loving  heart.  If  I 
could  only  put  my  hand  on  it,  and  say,  'Thou  art 
mine,'  I  should  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  world. 
She  charms  me  because  she  changes.  She  is  never 
the  same  ;  a  man  would  never  weary  of  her." 

Rose's  face  became  as  pale  as  death.  "  Agapit, 
would  a  man  weary  of  me  ? " 

He  did  not  reply  to  her.  Choked  by  some  emo 
tion,  he  had  again  turned  to  the  door. 

"  I  thank  the  blessed  Virgin  that  I  have  been 
spared  that  sorrow,"  she  murmured,  closing  her 
eyes,  and  allowing  her  flaxen  lashes  to  softly  brush 
her  cheeks.  "  Once  I  could  only  grieve,  —  now  I 
say  perhaps  it  was  well  for  me  not  to  marry.  If  I 
had  lost  the  love  of  a  husband,  —  a  true  husband,  — 
it  would  have  killed  me  very  quickly,  and  it  would 
also  have  made  him  say  that  all  women  are  stupid." 

"Rose,  thou  art  incomparable,"  said  Agapit,  half 
laughing,  half  frowning,  and  flinging  himself  back  to 
the  table.  "  No  man  would  tire  of  thee.  Cease  thy 
foolishness,  and  promise  me  not  to  cry  when  I  am 
gone." 


LOVE    AND    POLITICS.  433 

She  opened  her  eyes,  looked  as  startled  as  if  she 
had  been  asleep,  but  submissively  gave  the  required 
promise. 

"  Think  of  something  cheerful,"  he  went  on. 

She  saw  that  he  was  really  distressed,  and,  disen 
gaging  her  thoughts  from  herself  by  a  quiet,  intense 
effort,  she  roguishly  murmured,  "  I  will  let  my  mind 
run  to  the  conversation  that  you  will  have  with  this 
fair  one  —  no,  this  plain  one  —  when  you  announce 
your  love." 

Agapit  blushed  furiously,  and  hurried  from  the 
room,  while  Rose,  as  an  earnest  of  her  obedience 
to  him,  showed  him,  at  the  window,  until  he  was  out 
of  sight,  a  countenance  alight  with  gentle  mischief 
and  entire  contentment  of  mind. 


CHAPTER    X. 

A    CAMPAIGN    BEGUN    IN    BRIBERY. 

"  After  madness  acted,  question  asked." 

TENNYSON. 

BEFORE  the  day  was  many  hours  older,  Agapit 
was  driving  his  white  horse  into  the  inn  yard. 

There  seemed  to  be  more  people  about  the  house 
then  there  usually  were,  and  Bidiane,  who  stood  at 
the  side  door,  was  handing  a  long  paper  parcel  to  a 
man.  "Take  it  away,"  Agapit  heard  her  say,  in 
peremptory  tones;  "don't  you  open  it  here." 

The  Acadien  to  whom  she  was  talking  happened 
to  be,  Agapit  knew,  a  ne'er-do-weel.  He  shuffled 
away,  when  he  caught  sight  of  the  young  lawyer, 
but  Bidiane  ran  delightedly  towards  him.  "  Oh, 
Mr.  LeNoir,  you  are  as  welcome  as  Mayflowers 
in  April!" 

Her  face  was  flushed,  there  were  faint  dark  circles 
around  the  light  brown  eyes  that  harmonized  so  much 
better  with  her  red  hair  than  blue  ones  would  have 
done.  The  sun  shone  down  into  these  eyes,  empha 
sizing  this  harmony  between  them  and  the  hair,  and 

434 


A    CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY.  435 

Agapit,  looking  deeply  into  them,  forgot  immediately 
the  mentor's  part  that  he  was  to  act,  and  clasped  her 
warmly  and  approvingly  by  the  hand. 

"Come  in,"  she  said;  but  Agapit,  who  would  never 
sit  in  the  house  if  it  were  possible  to  stay  out-of- 
doors,  conducted  her  to  one  of  the  rustic  seats  by 
the  croquet  lawn.  He  sat  down,  and  she  perched  in 
the  hammock,  sitting  on  one  foot,  swinging  the  other, 
and  overwhelming  him  with  questions  about  his  visit 
to  Halifax. 

"  And  what  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself 
since  I  have  been  away?"  he  asked,  with  a  hypo 
critical  assumption  of  ignorance. 

"  You  know  very  well  what  I  have  been  doing," 
she  said,  rapidly.  "  Did  not  I  see  Rose  driving  in 
to  call  on  you  this  morning  ?  And  you  have  come 
down  to  scold  me.  I  understand  you  perfectly  ;  you 
cannot  deceive  me." 

Agapit  was  silent,  quite  overcome  by  this  mark  of 
feminine  insight. 

"I  will  never  do  it  again,"  she  went  on,  "but  I 
am  going  to  see  this  through.  It  is  such  fun  — 
'  Claude,'  said  my  aunt  to  her  husband,  when  we  first 
decided  to  make  bombance,  '  what  politics  do  you  be 
long  to  ? '  'I  am  a  Conservative,'  he  said  ;  because, 
you  know,  my  aunt  has  always  told  him  to  vote  as 
the  English  people  about  him  did.  She  has  known 
nothing  of  politics.  '  No,  you  are  not,'  she  replied, 


436  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

•  you  are  a  Liberal ; '  and  Claudine  and  I  nearly  ex 
ploded  with  laughter  to  hear  her  trying  to  convince 
him  that  he  must  be  a  Liberal  like  our  good  French 
Premier,  and  that  he  must  endeavor  to  drive  the 
Conservative  candidate  out.  Claude  said,  '  But  we 
have  always  been  Conservatives,  and  our  house  is  to 
be  their  meeting-place  on  the  day  of  election.'  '  It 
is  the  meeting-place  for  the  Liberals,'  said  my  aunt. 
But  Claude  would  not  give  in,  so  he  and  his  party 
will  have  the  laundry,  while  we  will  have  the  parlor  ; 
but  I  can  tell  you  a  secret,"  and  she  leaned  forward 
and  whispered,  "  Claude  will  vote  for  the  Liberal 
man.  Mirabelle  Marie  will  see  to  that." 

"  You  say  Liberal  man,  —  there  are  two  — 

"  But  one  is  going  to  retire." 

"  And  who  will  take  his  place  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said,  smiling  provokingly. 
"  The  Liberals  are  going  to  have  a  convention  to 
morrow  evening  in  the  Comeauville  schoolhouse, 
and  women  are  going.  Then  you  will  see  —  why 
there  is  Father  Duvair.  What  does  he  wish?" 

She  sprang  lightly  from  the  hammock,  and  while 
she  watched  the  priest,  Agapit  watched  her,  and  saw 
that  she  grew  first  as  pale  as  a  lily,  then  red  as  a  rose. 

The  parish  priest  was  walking  slowly  towards  the 
inn.  He  was  a  young  man  of  tall,  commanding  pres 
ence,  and  being  a  priest  "  out  of  France,"  he  had  on 
a  soutane  (cassock)  and  a  three-cornered  hat.  On  the 


A    CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY.  437 

Bay  are  Irish  priests,  Nova  Scotian  priests,  Acadien 
priests,  and  French-Canadian  priests,  but  only  the 
priests  "out  of  France"  hold  to  the  strictly  French 
customs  of  dress.  The  others  dress  as  do  the  Hali 
fax  ecclesiastics,  in  tall  silk  or  shovel  hats  and  black 
broadcloth  garments  like  those  worn  by  clergymen 
of  Protestant  denominations. 

"Bonjotir,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  to  Bidiane. 

"  Bon  jour,  monsieur  Ic  cure,"  she  replied,  with  deep 
respect. 

"  Is  Madame  Corbineau  within  ? "  he  went  on, 
after  warmly  greeting  Agapit,  who  was  an  old  fa 
vorite  of  his. 

"  Yes,  monsieur  le  cure,  —  I  will  take  you  to  her," 
and  she  led  the  way  to  the  house. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  came  dejectedly  back.  "You 
are  in  trouble,"  said  Agapit,  tenderly  ;  "  what  is  it  ? " 

She  glanced  miserably  at  him  from  under  her  curl 
ing  eyelashes.  "  When  Mirabelle  Marie  went  into 
the  parlor,  Father  Duvair  said  politely,  so  politely, 
'  I  wish  to  buy  a  little  rum,  madame ;  can  you  sell  me 
some  ? '  My  aunt  looked  at  me,  and  I  said,  '  Yes, 
monsieur  le  cure'  for  I  knew  if  we  set  the  priest 
against  us  we  should  have  trouble, — and  then  we 
have  not  been  quite  right,  I  know  that." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  rum?"  asked  Agapit, 
kindly. 

"  From  a  schooner,  - —  two  weeks  ago,  —  there  were 


438  KOSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

four  casks.  It  is  necessary,  you  know,  to  make  bom- 
bance.  Some  men  will  not  vote  without." 

"And  you  have  been  bribing." 

"  Not  bribing,"  she  said,  and  she  dropped  her 
head;  "just  coaxing." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  money  to  buy  it  ?  " 

For  some  reason  or  other  she  evaded  a  direct  an 
swer  to  this  question,  and  after  much  deliberation 
murmured,  in  the  lowest  of  voices,  that  Claudine  had 
had  some  money. 

"Bidiane,  she  is  a  poor  woman." 

"She  loves  her  country,"  said  the  girl,  flashing- 
out  suddenly  at  him,  "  and  she  is  not  ashamed  of  it. 
However,  Claude  bought  the  rum  and  found  the  bot 
tles,  and  we  always  say,  '  Take  it  home,  —  do  not 
drink  it  here.'  We  know  that  the  priests  are  against 
drinking,  so  we  had  to  make  haste,  for  Claudine  said 
they  would  get  after  us.  Therefore,  just  now,  I  at 
once  gave  in.  Father  Duvair  said,  '  I  would  like  to 
buy  all  you  have ;  how  much  is  it  worth  ? '  I  said 
fifty  dollars,  and  he  pulled  the  money  out  of  his 
pocket  and  Mirabelle  Marie  took  it,  and  then  he  bor 
rowed  a  nail  and  a  hammer  and  went  down  in  the  cel 
lar,  and  Claudine  whispered  loudly  as  he  went  through 
the  kitchen,  '  I  wonder  whether  he  will  find  the  cask 
under  the  coal  ? '  and  he  heard  her,  for  she  said  it  on 
purpose,  and  he  turned  and  gave  her  a  quick  look  as 
he  passed." 


A    CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY.  439 

"  I  don't  understand  perfectly,"  said  Agapit,  with 
patient  gravity.  "  This  seems  to  be  a  house  divided 
against  itself.  Claudine  spends  her  money  for  some 
thing  she  hates,  and  then  informs  on  herself." 

Bidiane  would  not  answer  him,  and  he  continued, 
"  Is  Father  Duvair  at  present  engaged  in  the  work 
of  destruction  in  the  cellar  ?  " 

"  I  just  told  you  that  he  is." 

"  How  much  rum  will  he  find  there  ? " 

"  Two  casks,"  she  said,  mournfully.  "  It  is  what 
we  were  keeping  for  the  election." 

"  And  you  think  it  wise  to  give  men  that  poison  to 
drink?"  asked  Agapit,  in  an  impartial  and  judicial 
manner. 

"  A  little  does  not  hurt ;  why,  some  of  the  women 
say  that  it  makes  their  husbands  good-natured." 

"  If  you  were  married,  would  you  like  your  hus 
band  to  be  a  drunkard  ?  " 

"No,"  she  said,  defiantly;  "but  I  would  not 
mind  his  getting  drunk  occasionally,  if  he  would  be 
gentlemanly  about  it." 

Her  tone  was  sharp  and  irritated,  and  Agapit, 
seeing  that  her  nerves  were  all  unstrung,  smiled 
indulgently  instead  of  chiding  her. 

She  smiled,  too,  rather  uncertainly  ;  then  she  said, 
"  Hush,  here  is  Father  Duvair  coming  back." 

That  muscular  young  priest  was  sauntering  to 
wards  them,  his  stout  walking-stick  under  his  arm, 


44°  XOSE   A    CHAKLITTR. 

while  he  slowly  rubbed  his  damp  hands  with  his 
white  handkerchief. 

Agapit  stood  up  when  he  saw  him,  and  went  to 
meet  him,  but  Bidiane  sat  still  in  her  old  seat  in  the 
hammock. 

Agapit  drew  a  cheque-book  from  his  pocket,  and, 
resting  it  on  the  picket  fence,  wrote  something 
quickly  on  it,  tore  out  the  leaf,  and  extended  it 
towards  the  priest. 

"This  is  for  you,  father ;  will  you  be  good  enough 
to  hand  it  to  some  priest  who  is  unexpectedly  called 
upon  to  make  certain  outlays  for  the  good  of  his 
parishioners  ? " 

Father  Duvair  bowed  slightly,  and,  without  offer 
ing  to  take  it,  went  on  wiping  his  hands. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on  with  your  business, 
Agapit  ? " 

"  I  am  fully  occupied.  My  income  supports  me, 
and  I  am  even  able  to  lay  up  a  little." 

"  Are  you  able  to  marry  ?  " 

"Yes,  father,  whenever  I  wish." 

A  gleam  of  humor  appeared  in  Father  Duvair 's 
eyes,  and  he  glanced  towards  the  apparently  careless 
girl  seated  in  the  hammock. 

"You  will  take  the  cheque,  father,"  said  Agapit, 
"otherwise  it  will  cause  me  great  pain." 

The  priest  reluctantly  took  the  slip  of  paper  from 
him,  then,  lifting  his  hat,  he  said  to  Bidiane,  "  I 


A.  CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY.  441 

have  the  honor  to  wish  you  good  morning,  made 
moiselle." 

" Monsieur  le  cur/?"  she  said,  disconsolately,  rising 
and  coming  towards  him,  "  you  must  not  think  me 
too  wicked." 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  do  not  do  yourself  justice," 
he  said,  gravely. 

Bidiane's  eyes  wandered  to  the  spots  of  moisture 
on  his  cassock.  "  I  wish  that  rum  had  been  in  the 
Bay,"  she  said  ;  "yet,  monsieur  le  cure,  Mr.  Greening 
is  a  very  bad  man." 

"  Charity,  charity,  mademoiselle.  We  all  speak 
hastily  at  times.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  monsieur  le  cure",  if  you  please." 

"  I  think  that  you  have  a  good  heart,  but  a  hasty 
judgment.  You  will,  like  many  others,  grow  wise  as 
you  grow  older,  yet,  mademoiselle,  we  do  not  wish 
you  to  lose  that  good  heart.  Do  you  not  think  that 
Mr.  Greening  has  had  his  lesson  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"Then,  mademoiselle,  you  will  cease  wearying 
yourself  with  —  with  — 

"With  unwomanly  exertions  against  him,"  said 
Bidiane,  with  a  quivering  lip  and  a  laughing  eye. 

"Hardly  that,  —  but  you  are  vexing  yourself 
unnecessarily." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  my  good  cousin  here  ought 
to  go  to  Parliament  ? "  she  asked,  wistfully. 


442  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Father  Duvair  laughed  outright,  refused  to  commit 
himself,  and  went  slowly  away. 

"I  like  him,"  said  Bidiane,  as  she  watched  him 
out  of  sight,  "  he  is  so  even-tempered,  and  he  never 
scolds  his  flock  as  some  clergymen  do.  Just  to  think 
of  his  going  down  into  that  cellar  and  letting  all  that 
liquor  run  out.  His  boots  were  quite  wet,  and  did 
you  notice  the  splashes  on  his  nice  black  cassock  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  who  will  get  the  fifty  dollars  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  I  forgot  all  about  it.  I  have  known 
a  good  deal  of  money  to  go  into  my  aunt's  big 
pocket,  but  very  little  comes  out.  Just  excuse  me 
for  a  minute,  —  I  may  get  it  if  I  pounce  upon  her  at 
once." 

Bidiane  ran  to  the  house,  from  whence  issued 
immediately  after  a  lively  sound  of  squealing.  In 
a  few  minutes  she  appeared  in  the  doorway,  cram 
ming  something  in  her  pocket  and  looking  over  her 
shoulder  at  her  aunt,  who  stood  slapping  her  sides 
and  vowing  that  she  had  been  robbed. 

"  I  have  it  all  but  five  dollars,"  said  the  girl, 
breathlessly.  "The  dear  old  thing  was  stuffing  it 
into  her  stocking  for  Mr.  Nimmo.  '  You  sha'n't  rob 
Peter  to  pay  Paul,'  I  said,  and  I  snatched  it  away 
from  her.  Then  she  squealed  like  a  pig,  and  ran 
after  me." 

"  You  will  give  this  to  Claudine  ? " 

"  I   don't   know.      I   think    I'll  have  to  divide   it. 


A    CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY.  443 

We  had  to  give  that  maledicted  Jean  Drague  three 
dollars  for  his  vote.  That  was  my  money." 

"  Where  did  you  see  Jean  Drague  ?  " 

"  I  went  to  his  house.  Some  one  told  me  that 
the  Conservative  candidate  had  called,  and  had  laid 
seven  dollars  on  the  mantelpiece.  I  also  called,  and 
there  were  the  seven  dollars,  so  I  took  them  up, 
and  laid  down  ten  instead." 

Agapit  did  not  speak,  but  contented  himself  with 
twisting  the  ends  of  his  mustache  in  a  vigorous 
manner. 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  we  are  not  sure  of 
him  now,"  she  said,  drearily.  "  I  wonder  what  Mr. 
Nimmo  would  say  if  he  knew  how  I  have  been 
acting  ? " 

"  I  have  been  wondering,  myself." 

"  Some  of  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  tell  him,  I 
suppose,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  dear,  I'm  tired,"  and  lean 
ing  her  head  against  the  hammock  supports,  she 
began  to  cry  wearily  and  dejectedly. 

Agapit  was  nearly  frantic.  He  got  up,  walked 
to  and  fro  about  her,  half  stretched  out  his  hand 
to  touch  her  burnished  head,  drew  it  back  upon 
reflecting  that  the  eyes  of  the  street,  the  neigh 
bors,  and  the  inn  might  be  upon  him,  and  at 
last  said,  desperately,  "  You  ought  to  have  a  hus 
band,  Bidiane.  You  are  a  very  torrent  of  energy ; 
you  will  always  be  getting  into  scrapes." 


444  XOSE   A    CHARLITTR. 

"Why  don't  you  get  married  yourself?"  and  she 
turned  an  irritated  eye  upon  him. 

"  I  cannot,"  said  Agapit,  in  sudden  calm,  and 
with  an  inspiration ;  "  the  woman  that  I  love  does 
not  love  me." 

"Are  you  in  love?"  asked  Bidiane,  immediately 
drying  her  eyes.  "Who  is  she?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  some  English  girl,  I  imagine,"  she  said,  dis 
dainfully. 

"  Suppose  Mr.  Greening  could  hear  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  talking  against  the  English,"  she  re 
torted,  snappishly,  "  but  I  should  think  that  you,  of 
all  men,  would  want  to  marry  a  woman  of  your  own 
nation,  —  the  dear  little  Acadien  nation,  —  the  only 
thing  that  I  love,"  and  she  wound  up  with  a  despair 
ing  sob. 

"  The  girl  that  I  love  is  an  Acadien,"  said  Agapit, 
in  a  lower  voice,  for  two  men  had  just  driven  into 
the  yard. 

"  Is  it  Claudine  ?  " 

"  Claudine  has  a  good  education,"  he  said,  coldly, 
"yet  she  is  hardly  fitted  to  be  my  wife." 

"  I  daresay  it  is  Rose." 

"  It  is  not  Rose,"  said  Agapit ;  and  rendered  des 
perate  by  the  knowledge  that  he  must  not  raise  his 
voice,  must  not  seem  excited,  must  not  stand  too 
close  to  her,  lest  he  attract  the  attention  of  some 


A    CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY.  445 

of  the  people  at  a  little  distance  from  them,  and  yet 
that  he  must  snatch  this,  the  golden  moment,  to 
press  his  suit  upon  her,  he  crammed  both  hands  in 
his  coat  pockets,  and  roamed  distractedly  around  the 
square  of  grass. 

"  Do  I  know  her  ?  "  asked  Bidiane  when,  after  a 
time,  he  came  back  to  the  hammock. 

"A  little, — not  thoroughly.  You  do  not  appre 
ciate  her  at  her  full  value." 

"Well,"  said  Bidiane,  resignedly,  "  I  give  it  up.  I 
daresay  I  will  find  out  in  time.  I  can't  go  over  the 
names  of  all  the  girls  on  the  Bay  —  I  wish  I  knew 
what  it  is  that  keeps  our  darling  Rose  and  Mr. 
Nimmo  apart." 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  you." 

"  Is  it  something  that  can  be  got  over  ?  " 

"Yes." 

She  swung  herself  more  vigorously  in  her  delight. 
"  If  they  could  only  marry,  I  would  be  willing  to  die 
an  old  maid." 

"  But  I  thought  you  had  already  made  up  your 
mind  to  do  that,"  said  Agapit,  striking  an  attitude 
of  pretended  unconcern. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot,  —  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  am  not  suited  to  matrimony.  Just  fancy 
having  to  ask  a  man  every  time  you  wanted  a  little 
money,  —  and  having  to  be  meek  and  patient  all  the 
time.  No,  indeed,  I  wish  to  have  my  own  way  rather 


446  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

more  than  most  women  do,"  and,  in  a  gay  and  heart 
less  derision  of  the  other  sex,  she  hummed  a  little 
tune. 

"Just  wait  till  you  fall  in  love,"  said  Agapit, 
threateningly. 

"  A  silly  boy  asked  me  to  marry  him,  the  other 
evening.  Just  as  if  I  would !  Why,  he  is  only  a 
baby." 

"  That  was  Pius  Poirier,"  said  Agapit,  delightedly 
and  ungenerously. 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you.  I  did  wrong  to  mention 
him,"  said  Bidiane,  calmly. 

"  He  is  a  diligent  student  ;  he  will  get  on  in  the 
world,"  said  Agapit,  more  thoughtfully. 

"  But  without  me,  —  I  shall  never  marry." 

"I  know  a  man  who  loves  you,"  said  Agapit, 
cautiously. 

"Do  you?  —  well,  don't  tell  me.  Tell  him,  if  you 
have  his  confidence,  that  he  is  a  goose  for  his  pains," 
and  Bidiane  reclined  against  her  hammock  cushions 
in  supreme  indifference. 

"  But  he  is  very  fond  of  you,"  said  Agapit,  with  ex 
quisite  gentleness,  "  and  very  unhappy  to  think  that 
you  do  not  care  for  him." 

Bidiane  held  her  breath  and  favored  him  with 
a  sharp  glance.  Then  she  sat  up  very  straight. 
"  What  makes  you  so  pale  ?  " 

"  I  am  sympathizing  with  that  poor  man." 


A    CAMPAIGN  BEGUA7  1 'N  BRIBERY.  447 

"  But  you  are  trembling,  too." 

"  Am  I  ? "  and  with  the  pretence  of  a  laugh  he 
turned  away. 

" Mon  cousin"  she  said,  sweetly,  "tell  that  poor 
man  that  I  am  hoping  soon  to  leave  Sleeping  Water, 
and  to  go  out  in  the  world  again." 

"No,  no,  Bidiane,  you  must  not,"  he  said,  turning 
restlessly  on  his  heel,  and  coming  back  to  her. 

"  Yes,  I  am.  I  have  become  very  unhappy  here. 
Every  one  is  against  me,  and  I  am  losing  my  health. 
When  I  came,  I  was  intoxicated  with  life.  I  could 
run  for  hours.  I  was  never  tired.  It  was  a  delight 
to  live.  Now  I  feel  weary,  and  like  a  consumptive. 
I  think  I  shall  die  young.  My  parents  did,  you 
know." 

"  Yes  ;  they  were  both  drowned.  You  will  par 
don  me,  if  I  say  that  I  think  you  have  a  constitution 
of  iron." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken,"  she  said,  with  dignity. 
"  Time  will  show  that  I  am  right.  Unless  I  leave 
Sleeping  Water  at  once,  I  feel  that  I  shall  go  into  a 
decline." 

"  May  I  ask  whether  you  think  it  a  good  plan  to 
leave  a  place  immediately  upon  matters  going  wrong 
with  one  living  in  it  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  for  me,"  she  said,  decidedly. 

"Then,  mademoiselle,  you  will  never  find  rest  for 
the  sole  of  your  foot." 


ROSE   A    CHARLITTR. 

"  I  am  tired  of  Sleeping  Water,"  she  said,  excitedly 
quitting  the  hammock,  and  looking  as  if  she  were 
about  to  leave  him.  "  I  wish  to  get  out  in  the  world 
to  do  something.  This  life  is  unendurable." 

"  Bidiane,  — dear  Bidiane,  —  you  will  not  leave  us  ? " 

"Yes,  I  will,"  she  said,  decidedly;  "you  are  not 
willing  for  me  to  have  my  own  way  in  one  single 
thing.  You  are  not  in  the  least  like  Mr.  Nimmo," 
and  holding  her  head  well  in  the  air,  she  walked 
towards  the  house. 

"  Not  like  Mr.  Nimmo,"  said  Agapit,  with  a  dark 
ening  brow.  "  Dear  little  fool,  one  would  think  you 
had  never  felt  that  iron  hand  in  the  velvet  glove. 
Because  I  am  more  rash  and  loud-spoken,  you  mis 
judge  me.  You  are  so  young,  so  foolish,  so  adorable, 
so  surprised,  so  intoxicated  with  what  I  have  said, 
that  you  are  beside  yourself.  I  am  not  discouraged, 
oh,  no,"  and,  with  a  sudden  hopeful  smile  overspread 
ing  his  face,  he  was  about  to  spring  into  his  buggy 
and  drive  away,  when  Bidiane  came  sauntering  back 
to  him. 

"  I  am  forgetting  the  duties  of  hospitality,"  she 
said,  stiffly.  "  Will  you  not  come  into  the  house 
and  have  something  to  eat  or  drink  after  your  long 
drive  ?  " 

"  Bidiane,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  eager  voice,  "  I  am 
not  a  harsh  man." 

"Yes,  you  are,"  she  said,  with  a  catching  of  her 


A    CAMPAIGN  BEGUN  IN  BRIBERY.  449 

breath.  "  You  are  against  me,  and  the  whole  Bay 
will  laugh  at  me,  —  and  I  thought  you  would  be 
pleased." 

"  Bidiane,"  he  muttered,  casting  a  desperate  glance 
about  him,  "  I  am  frantic  —  oh,  for  permission  to  dry 
those  tears  !  If  I  could  only  reveal  my  heart  to  you, 
but  you  are  such  a  child,  you  would  not  understand." 
"Will  you  do  as  I  wish  you  to  ? "  she  asked,  obsti 
nately. 

"  Yes,  yes,  anything,  my  darling  one." 
"  Then  you  will  take  Mr.  Greening's  place  ?  " 
"Oh,   the   baby,  —  you   do   not   comprehend   this 
question.      I  have  talked  to  no  one,  —  I  know  noth 
ing,  —  I  am  not  one  to  put  myself  forward." 

"  If  you  are  requested  or  elected  to-night,  —  or 
whatever  they  call  it,  —  will  you  go  up  to  Halifax  to 
'  make  the  laws,'  as  my  aunt  says  ?  "  inquired  Bidiane, 
smiling  slightly,  and  revealing  to  him  just  the  tips  of 
her  glittering  teeth. 

"Yes,  yes,  —  anything  to  please  you." 
She  was  again  about  to  leave  him,  but  he  detained 
her.      "  I,  also,  have  a  condition  to  make  in  this  cam 
paign  of  bribery.     If  I  am  nominated,  and  run  an 
election,  what  then,  — where  is  my  reward  ?  " 

She  hesitated,  and  he  hastened  to  dissipate  the 
cloud  overspreading  her  face.  "  Never  mind,  I  bind 
myself  with  chains,  but  I  leave  you  free.  Go,  little 
one,  I  will  not  detain  you,  —  I  exact  nothing." 


450  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  soberly,  and,  instead  of 
hurrying  away,  she  stood  still  and  watched  him  leav 
ing  the  yard. 

Just  before  he  reached  Wey mouth,  he  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  to  take  out  his  handkerchief.  To 
his  surprise  there  came  fluttering  out  with  it  a  num 
ber  of  bills.  He  gathered  them  together,  counted 
them,  found  that  he  had  just  forty-five  dollars,  and 
smiling  and  muttering,  "  The  little  sharp-eyes,  —  I 
did  not  think  that  she  took  in  my  transaction  with 
Father  Duvair,"  he  went  contentedly  on  his  way. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

WHAT    ELECTION    DAY    BROUGHT    FORTH. 

"  Oh,  my  companions,  now  should  we  carouse,  now  we  should 
strike  the  ground  with  a  free  foot,  now  is  the  time  to  deck  the 

temples  of  the  gods." 

ODE  37.     HORACE. 

Ir  was  election  time  all  through  the  province  of 
Nova  Scotia,  and  great  excitement  prevailed,  for  the 
Bluenoses  are  nothing  if  not  keen  politicians. 

In  the  French  part  of  the  county  of  Digby  there 
was  an  unusual  amount  of  interest  taken  in  the  elec 
tion,  and  considerable  amusement  prevailed  with  re 
gard  to  it. 

Mr.  Greening  had  been  spirited  away.  His  unwise 
and  untrue  remark  about  the  inhabitants  of  the  town 
ship  Clare  had  so  persistently  followed  him,  and  his 
anger  with  the  three  women  at  the  Sleeping  Water 
Inn  had  at  last  been  so  stubbornly  and  so  deeply 
resented  by  the  Acadiens,  who  are  slow  to  arouse 
but  difficult  to  quiet  when  once  aroused,  that  he  had 
been  called  upon  to  make  a  public  apology. 

This  he  had  refused  to  do,  and  the  discomfited 
451 


45 2  A'OS£   A    CHARLITTE. 

Liberals  nad  at  once  relegated  him  to  private  life. 
His  prospective  political  career  was  ruined.  Thence 
forward  he  would  lead  the  life  of  an  unostentatious 
citizen.  He  had  been  chased  and  whipped  out  of 
public  affairs,  as  many  another  man  has  been,  by  an 
unwise  sentence  that  had  risen  up  against  him  in  his 
day  of  judgment. 

The  surprised  Liberals  had  not  far  to  go  to  seek 
his  successor.  The  whole  French  population  had 
been  stirred  by  the  cry  of  an  Acadien  for  the  Aca- 
diens,  and  Agapit  LeNoir,  nolens  volcns,  but  in  truth 
quite  volens,  had  been  called  to  become  the  Liberal 
nominee.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  to  be  said 
against  him.  He  was  a  young  man,  —  not  too  young, 
-he  was  of  good  habits  ;  he  was  well  educated,  well 
bred,  and  he  possessed  the  respect  not  only  of  the 
population  along  the  Bay,  but  of  many  of  the  English 
residents  of  the  other  parts  of  the  county,  who  had 
heard  of  the  diligent  young  Acadien  lawyer  of 
Weymouth. 

The  wise  heads  of  the  Liberal  party,  in  welcoming 
this  new  representative  to  their  ranks,  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt  of  his  success. 

Without  money,  without  powerful  friends,  without 
influence,  except  that  of  a  blameless  career,  and  with 
out  asking  for  a  single  vote,  he  would  be  swept  into 
public  life  on  a  wave  of  public  opinion.  However, 
they  did  not  tell  him  this,  but  in  secret  anxiety  they 


WHAT  ELECTION  DAY  BROUGHT  FORTH.     453 

put  forth  all  their  efforts  towards  making  sure  the 
calling  and  election  of  their  other  Liberal  candidate, 
who  would,  from  the  very  fact  of  Agapit's  assured 
success,  be  more  in  danger  from  the  machinations  of 
the  one  Conservative  candidate  that  the  county  had 
returned  for  years. 

One  Liberal  and  one  Conservative  candidate  had 
been  elected  almost  from  time  immemorial.  This 
year,  if  the  campaign  were  skilfully  directed  in  the 
perilously  short  time  remaining  to  them,  there  might 
be  returned,  on  account  of  Agapit's  sudden  and 
extraordinary  popularity,  two  Liberals  and  no  Con 
servative  at  all. 

Agapit,  in  truth,  knew  very  little  about  elections, 
although  he  had  always  taken  a  quiet  interest  in 
them.  He  had  been  too  much  occupied  with  his 
struggle  for  daily  bread  for  mind  and  body,  to  be 
able  to  afford  much  time  for  outside  affairs,  and  he 
showed  his  inexperience  immediately  after  his  informal 
nomination  by  the  convention,  and  his  legal  one  by 
the  sheriff,  by  laying  strict  commands  upon  Bidiane 
and  her  confederates  that  they  should  do  no  more 
canvassing  for  him. 

Apparently  they  subsided,  but  they  had  gone  too 
far  to  be  wholly  repressed,  and  Mirabelle  Marie  and 
Claudine  calmly  carried  on  their  work  of  baking 
enormous  batches  of  pies  and  cakes,  for  a  whole 
week  before  the  election  took  place,  and  of  laying  in 


454  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

a  stock  of  confectionery,  fruit,  and  raisins,  and  of 
engaging  sundry  chickens  and  sides  of  beef,  and  also 
the  ovens  of  neighbors  to  roast  them  in. 

"For  men-folks,"  said  Mirabelle  Marie,  "is  like 
pigs  ;  if  you  feed  'em  high,  they  don'  squeal." 

Agapit  did  not  know  what  Bidiane  was  doing.  She 
was  shy  and  elusive,  and  avoided  meeting  him,  but 
he  strongly  suspected  that  she  was  the  power  behind 
the  throne  in  making  these  extensive  preparations. 
He  was  not  able  to  visit  the  inn  except  very  occa 
sionally,  for,  according  to  instructions  from  head 
quarters,  he  was  kept  travelling  from  one  end  of  the 
county  to  the  other,  cramming  himself  with  informa 
tion  en  route,  and  delivering  it,  at  first  stumblingly,  but 
always  modestly  and  honestly,  to  Acadien  audiences, 
who  wagged  delighted  heads,  and  vowed  that  this 
young  fellow  should  go  up  to  sit  in  Parliament,  where 
several  of  his  race  had  already  honorably  acquitted 
themselves.  What  had  they  been  thinking  of,  the 
last  five  years  ?  Formerly  they  had  always  had  an 
Acadien  representative,  but  lately  they  had  dropped 
into  an  easy-going  habit  of  allowing  some  Englishman 
to  represent  them.  The  English  race  were  well 
enough,  but  why  not  have  a  man  of  your  own  race  ? 
They  would  take  up  that  old  habit  again,  and  this 
time  they  would  stick  to  it. 

At  last  the  time  of  canvassing  and  lecturing  was 
over,  and  the  day  of  the  election  came.  The  Sleep- 


WHAT  ELECTION  DAY  BROUGHT  FORTH.     455 

ing  Water  Inn  had  been  scrubbed  from  the  attic  to 
the  cellar,  every  article  of  furniture  was  resplendent, 
and  two  long  tables  spread  with  every  variety  of 
dainties  known  to  the  Bay  had  been  put  up  in  the 
two  large  front  rooms  of  the  house. 

In  these  two  rooms,  the  smoking-room  and  the 
parlor,  men  were  expected  to  come  and  go,  eating 
and  drinking  at  will,  —  Liberal  men,  be  it  understood. 
The  Conservatives  were  restricted  to  the  laundry, 
and  Claude  ruefully  surveyed  the  cold  stove,  the 
empty  table,  and  the  hard  benches  set  apart  for  him 
and  his  fellow  politicians. 

He  was  exceedingly  confused  in  his  mind.  Mira- 
belle  Marie  had  explained  to  him  again  and  again  the 
reason  for  the  sudden  change  in  her  hazy  beliefs 
with  regard  to  the  conduct  of  state  affairs,  but 
Claude  was  one  Acadien  who  found  it  inconsistent 
to  turn  a  man  out  of  public  life  on  account  of  one 
unfortunate  word,  while  so  many  people  in  private 
life  could  grow,  and  thrive,  and  utter  scores  of  unfor 
tunate  words  without  rebuke. 

However,  his  wife  had  stood  over  him  until  he  had 
promised  to  vote  for  Agapit,  and  in  great  dejection 
of  spirit  he  smoked  his  pipe  and  tried  not  to  meet 
the  eyes  of  his  handful  of  associates,  who  did  not 
know  that  he  was  to  withhold  his  small  support  from 
them. 

From  early  morn  till  dewy  eve  the  contest  went 


456  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

on  between  the  two  parties.  All  along  the  shore, 
and  back  in  the  settlements  in  the  woods,  men  left 
their  work,  and,  driving  to  the  different  polling-places, 
registered  their  votes,  and  then  loitered  about  to  watch 
others  do  likewise. 

It  was  a  general  holiday,  and  not  an  Acadien  and 
not  a  Nova  Scotian  would  settle  down  to  work  again 
until  the  result  of  the  election  was  known. 

Bidiane  early  retreated  to  one  of  the  upper  rooms 
of  the  house,  and  from  the  windows  looked  down 
upon  the  crowd  about  the  polling-booth  at  the  cor 
ner,  or  crept  to  the  staircase  to  listen  to  jubilant 
sounds  below,  for  Mirabelle  Marie  and  Claudine  were 
darting  about,  filling  the  orders  of  those  who  came 
to  buy,  but  in  general  insisting  on  "treating"  the 
Liberal  tongues  and  palates  weary  from  much  talk 
ing. 

Bidiane  did  not  see  Agapit,  although  she  had 
heard  some  one  say  that  he  had  gone  down  the  Bay 
early  in  the  morning.  She  saw  the  Conservative 
candidate,  Mr.  Folsom,  drive  swiftly  by,  waving  his 
hat  and  shouting  a  hopeful  response  to  the  cheer 
ing  that  greeted  him  from  some  of  the  men  at  the 
corner,  and  her  heart  died  within  her  at  the  sound. 

Shortly  before  noon  she  descended  from  her  watch- 
tower,  and  betook  herself  to  the  pantry,  where  she 
soberly  spent  the  afternoon  in  washing  dishes,  only 
turning  her  head  occasionally  as  Mirabelle  Marie  or 


WHAT  ELECTION  DAY  BROUGHT  FORTH.     457 

Claudine  darted  in  with  an  armful  of  soiled  cups  and 
saucers  and  hurried  ejaculations  such  as  "  They  vow 
Agapit'll  go  in.  There's  an  awful  strong  party  for 
him  down  the  Bay.  Every  one's  grinning  over  that 
story  about  old  Greening.  They  say  we'll  not  know 
till  some  time  in  the  night  —  Bidiane,  you  look  pale 
as  a  ghost.  Go  lie  down,  —  we'll  manage.  I  never 
did  see  such  a  time,  —  and  the  way  they  drink  !  Such 
thirsty  throats  !  More  lemonade  glasses,  Biddy.  It's 
lucky  Father  Duvair  got  that  rum,  or  we'd  have  'em 
all  as  drunk  as  goats."  And  the  girl  washed  on, 
and  looked  down  the  road  from  the  little  pantry  win 
dow,  and"  in  a  fierce,  silent  excitement  wished  that 
the  thing  might  soon  be  over,  so  that  her  throbbing 
head  would  be  still. 

Soon  after  five  o'clock,  when  the  legal  hour  for 
closing  the  polling-places  arrived,  they  learned  the 
majority  for  Agapit,  for  he  it  was  that  obtained  it  in 
all  the  villages  in  the  vicinity  of  Sleeping  Water. 

"  He's  in  hereabouts,"  shouted  Mirabelle  Marie, 
joyfully,  as  she  came  plunging  into  the  pantry,  "an" 
they  say  he'll  git  in  everywheres.  The  ole  Conserva 
tive  ain't  gut  a  show  at  all.  Oh,  ain't  you  glad, 
Biddy  ?  " 

"Of  course  she's  glad,"  said  Claudine,  giving  Mrs. 
Corbineau  a  push  with  her  elbow,  "  but  let  her  alone, 
can't  you  ?  She's  tired,  so  she's  quiet  about  it." 

As  it  grew  dark,  the  returns  from  the  whole,  or 


45 8  ROSE   A    CHAKLITTE. 

nearly  the  whole  county  came  pouring  in.  Men 
mounted  on  horseback,  or  driving  in  light  carts,  came 
dashing  up  to  the  corner  to  receive  the  latest  news 
from  the  crowd  about  the  telephone  office,  and  re 
ceiving  it,  dashed  on  again  to  impart  the  news  to 
others.  Soon  they  knew  quite  surely,  although 
there  were  some  backwoods  districts  still  to  be  heard 
from.  In  them  the  count  could  be  pretty  accurately 
reckoned,  for  it  did  not  vary  much  from  year  to  year. 
They  could  be  relied  on  to  remain  Liberal  or  Con 
servative,  as  the  case  might  be. 

Bidiane,  who  had  again  retreated  up-stairs,  for 
nothing  would  satisfy  her  but  being  alone,  heard, 
shortly  after  it  grew  quite  dark,  a  sudden  uproar  of 
joyous  and  incoherent  noises  below. 

She  ran  to  the  top  of  the  front  staircase.  The 
men,  many  of  whom  had  been  joined  by  their  wives, 
had  left  the  dreary  polling-place,  which  was  an  unused 
shop,  and  had  sought  the  more  cheerful  shelter  of 
the  inn.  Soft  showers  of  rain  were  gently  falling; 
but  many  of  the  excited  Acadiens  stood  heedlessly 
on  the  grass  outside,  or  leaned  from  the  veranda  to 
exchange  exultant  cries  with  those  of  their  friends 
who  went  driving  by.  Many  others  stalked  about 
the  hall  and  front  rooms,  shaking  hands,  clapping 
shoulders,  congratulating,  laughing,  joking,  and  re 
joicing,  while  Mirabelle  Marie,  her  fat  face  radiant 
with  glee,  plunged  about  among  them  like  a  huge, 


WHAT  ELECTION  DAY  BROUGHT  FORTH.     459 

unwieldy  duck,  flourishing  her  apron,  and  making 
more  noise  and  clatter  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
women  combined. 

Agapit  was  in,  —  in  by  an  overwhelming  majority. 
His  name  headed  the  lists  ;  the  other  Liberal  candi 
date  followed  him  at  a  respectful  distance,  and  the 
Conservative  candidate  was  nowhere  at  all. 

Bidiane  trembled  like  a  leaf  ;  then,  pressing  her 
hands  over  her  ears,  she  ran  to  hide  herself  in  a 
closet. 

In  the  meantime,  the  back  of  the  house  was 
gloomy.  One  by  one  the  Conservatives  were  slip 
ping  away  home  ;  still,  a  few  yet  lingered,  and  sat 
dispiritedly  looking  at  each  other  and  the  empty 
wash-tubs  in  the  laundry,  while  they  passed  about  a 
bottle  of  weak  raspberry  vinegar  and  water,  which 
was  the  only  beverage  Mirabelle  and  Claudine  had 
allowed  them. 

Claude,  as  in  honor  bound,  sat  with  them  until  his 
wife,  who  gloried  in  including  every  one  within  reach 
in  what  she  called  her  "  jollifications,"  came  bound 
ing  in,  and  ordered  them  all  into  the  front  of  the 
house,  where  the  proceedings  of  the  day  were  to  be 
wound  up  with  a  supper. 

Good-humored  raillery  greeted  Claude  and  his 
small  flock  of  Conservatives  when  Mirabelle  Marie 
came  driving  them  in  before  her. 

"  Ah,  Joe  a  Jack,  where  is  thy  doubloon  ? "  called 


460  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

out  a  Liberal.  "Thou  hast  lost  it,  — thy  candidate  is 
in  the  Bay.  It  is  all  up  with  him.  And  thou,  Guil- 
laume,  —  away  to  the  shore  with  thee.  You  remem 
ber,  boys,  he  promised  to  swallow  a  dog-fish,  tail 
first,  if  Agapit  LeNoir  went  in." 

A  roar  of    laughter  greeted    this    announcement, 
and  the  unfortunate  Guillaume  was   pushed    into  a 
seat,  and  had  a  glass  thrust  into  his  hand.      "  Drink, 
cousin,  to  fortify  thee  for  thy  task.     A  dog-fish,  — 
sakerjt ' !  but  it  will  be  prickly  swallowing." 

"Biddy  Ann,  Biddy  Ann,"  shrieked  her  aunt,  up 
the  staircase,  "  come  and  hear  the  good  news,"  but 
Bidiane,  who  was  usually  social  in  her  instincts, 
was  now  eccentric  and  solitary,  and  would  not  re 
spond. 

"  Skedaddle  up-stairs  and  hunt  her  out,  Claudine," 
said  Mrs.  Corbineau  ;  but  Bidiane,  hearing  the  request, 
cunningly  ran  to  the  back  of  the  house,  descended 
the  kitchen  stairway,  and  escaped  out-of-doors.  She 
would  go  up  to  the  horseshoe  cottage  and  see  Rose. 
There,  at  least,  it  would  be  quiet  ;  she  hated  this 
screaming. 

Her  small  feet  went  pit-a-pat  over  the  dark  road. 
There  were  lights  in  all  the  windows.  Everybody 
was  excited  to-night.  Everybody  but  herself.  She 
was  left  out  of  the  general  rejoicing,  and  a  wave  of 
injured  feeling  and  of  desperate  dissatisfaction  and 
bodily  fatigue  swept  over  her.  And  she  had  fancied 


WHAT  ELECTION   DAY  BROUGHT  FORTH.     461 

that  Agapit's  election  would  plunge  her  into  a  tumult 
of  joy. 

However,  she  kept  on  her  way,  and  dodging  a 
party  of  hilarious  young  Acadiens,  who  were  lustily 
informing  the  neighborhood  that  the  immortal  Mal- 
brouck  had  really  gone  to  the  wars  at  last,  she  took 
to  the  wet  grass  and  ran  across  the  fields  to  the 
cottage. 

There  were  two  private  bridges  across  Sleeping 
Water  just  here,  the  Comeau  bridge  and  Rose  a 
Charlitte's.  Bidiane  trotted  nimbly  over  the  former, 
jumped  a  low  stone  wall,  and  found  herself  under 
the  windows  of  Rose's  parlor. 

Why,  there  was  the  hero  of  the  day  talking  to 
Rose  !  What  was  he  doing  here  ?  She  had  fancied 
him  the  centre  of  a  crowd  of  men,  —  he,  speech-mak 
ing,  and  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  —  and  here  he  was, 
quietly  lolling  in  an  easy  chair  by  the  fire  that  Rose 
always  had  on  cool,  rainy  evenings.  However,  he 
had  evidently  just  arrived,  for  his  boots  were  muddy, 
and  his  white  horse,  instead  of  being  tied  to  the  post, 
was  standing  patiently  by  the  door,  —  a  sure  sign 
that  his  master  was  not  to  stay  long. 

WeH,  she  would  go  home.  They  looked  comfort 
able  in  there,  and  they  were  carrying  on  an  animated 
conversation.  They  did  not  want  her,  and,  frowning 
impatiently,  she  uttered  an  irritable  "  Get  away !  "  to 
the  friendly  white  horse,  who,  taking  advantage  of 


462  A' OSE    A    CHARLITTE. 

one  of  the  few  occasions  when  he  was  not  attached 
to  the  buggy,  which  was  the  bane  of  his  existence, 
had  approached,  and  was  extending  a  curious  and 
sympathetically  quivering  nose  in  her  direction. 

The  horse  drew  back,  and,  moving  his  cars  sensi 
tively  back  and  forth,  watched  her  going  down  the 
path  to  the  river. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

BIDIANE    FALLS    IN    A    RIVER. 

"  He  laid  a  finger  under  her  chin, 

His  arm  for  her  girdle  at  waist  was  thrown ; 
Now,  what  will  happen,  and  who  will  win, 
With  me  in  the  fight  and  my  lady-love  ? 

"  Sleek  as  a  lizard  at  round  of  a  stone, 

The  look  of  her  heart  slipped  out  and  in. 
Sweet  on  her  lord  her  soft  eyes  .shone, 
As  innocents  clear  of  a  shade  of  sin." 

GEORGE  MEREDITH. 

FIVE  minutes  later,  Agapit  left  Rose,  and,  coming 
out-of-doors,  stared  about  for  his  horse,  Turenne, 
who  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

While  he  stood  momentarily  expecting  to  see  the 
big,  familiar  white  shape  loom  up  through  the  dark 
ness,  he  fancied  that  he  heard  some  one  calling  his 
name. 

He  turned  his  head  towards  the  river.  There  was 
a  fine,  soft  wind  blowing,  the  sky  was  dull  and  moist, 
and,  although  the  rain  had  ceased  for  a  time,  it  was 
evidently  going  to  fall  again.  Surely  he  had  been 
mistaken  about  hearing  his  name,  unless  Turenne 

463 


464  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

had  suddenly  been  gifted  with  the  power  of  speech. 
No,  —  there  it  was  again  ;  and  now  he  discovered  that 
it  was  uttered  in  the  voice  that,  of  all  the  voices  in 
the  world,  he  loved  best  to  hear,  and  it  was  at 
present  ejaculating,  in  peremptory  and  impatient 
tones,  "  Agapit !  Agapit  !  " 

He  precipitated  himself  down  the  hill,  peering 
through  the  darkness  as  he  went,  and  on  the  way 
running  afoul  of  his  white  nag,  who  stood  staring 
with  stolid  interest  at  a  small  round  head  beside  the 
bridge,  and  two  white  hands  that  were  clinging  to  its 
rustic  foundations. 

"  Do  help  me  out,"  said  Bidiane ;  "  my  feet  are 
quite  wet." 

Agapit  uttered  a  confused,  smothered  exclamation, 
and,  stooping  over,  seized  her  firmly  by  the  shoul 
ders,  and  drew  her  out  from  the  clinging  embrace  of 
Sleeping  Water. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  river,"  said  Bidiane,  shaking 
herself  like  a  small  wet  dog,  and  avoiding  her  lover's 
shocked  glance.  "  It  is  just  like  jelly." 

"  Come  up  to  the  house,"  he  ejaculated. 

"  No,  no  ;  it  would  only  frighten  Rose.  She  is 
getting  to  dislike  this  river,  for  people  talk  so  much 
against  it.  I  will  go  home." 

"Then  let  me  put  you  on  Turenne's  back,"  said 
Agapit,  pointing  to  his  horse  as  he  stood  curiously 
regarding  them. 


BIDIANE   FALLS  IN  A    RIVER.  46$ 

"  No,  I  might  fall  off  —  I  have  had  enough  frights 
for  to-night,"  and  she  shuddered.  "  I  shall  run  home. 
I  never  take  cold.  Ma  foi  !  but  it  is  good  to  be  out 
of  that  slippery  mud." 

Agapit  hurried  along  beside  her.  "  How  did  it 
happen  ?  " 

"  I  was  just  going  to  cross  the  bridge.  The  river 
looked  so  sleepy  and  quiet,  and  so  like  a  mirror,  that 
I  wondered  if  I  could  see  my  face,  if  I  bent  close  to 
it.  I  stepped  on  the  bank,  and  it  gave  way  under 
me,  and  then  I  fell  in  ;  and  to  save  myself  from  being 
sucked  down  I  clung  to  the  bridge,  and  waited  for 
you  to  come,  for  I  didn't  seem  to  have  strength  to 
drag  myself  out." 

Agapit  could  not  speak  for  a  time.  He  was  strug 
gling  with  an  intense  emotion  that  would  have 
been  unintelligible  to  her  if  he  had  expressed  it. 
At  last  he  said,  "  How  did  you  know  that  I  was 
here  ? " 

"  I  saw  you,"  said  Bidiane,  and  she  slightly  slack 
ened  her  pace,  and  glanced  at  him  from  the  corners 
of  her  eyes. 

"  Through  the  window  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  in  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  do  so." 

"  You  are  jealous,"  he  exclaimed,  and  he  endeav 
ored  to  take  her  hand. 


466  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  Let  my  hand  alone,  —  you  flatter  yourself." 

"  You  were  frightened  there  in  the  river,  little  one,1' 
he  murmured. 

Bidiane  paused  for  an  instant,  and  gazed  over  her 
shoulder.  "  Your  old  horse  is  nearly  on  my  heels, 
and  his  eyes  are  like  carriage  lamps." 

"  Back ! "  exclaimed  Agapit,  to  the  curious  and 
irrepressible  Turenne. 

"  You  say  nothing  of  your  election,"  remarked 
Bidiane.  "  Are  you  glad  ?  " 

He  drew  a  rapid  breath,  and  turned  his  red  face 
towards  her  again.  "  My  mind  is  in  a  whirl,  little 
cousin,  and  my  pulses  are  going  like  hammers.  You 
do  not  know  what  it  is  to  sway  men  by  the  tongue. 
When  one  stands  up,  and  speaks,  and  the  human  faces 
spreading  out  like  a  flower-bed  change  and  lighten, 
or  grow  gloomy,  as  one  wishes,  it  is  majestic, — it 
makes  a  man  feel  like  a  deity." 

"  You  will  get  on  in  the  world,"  said  Bidiane, 
impulsively.  "  You  have  it  in  you." 

"  But  must  I  go  alone  ? "  he  said,  passionately. 
"  Bidiane,  you,  though  so  much  younger,  you  under 
stand  me.  I  have  been  happy  to-day,  yes,  happy,  for 
amid  all  the  excitement,  the  changing  faces,  the  buz 
zing  of  talk  in  my  ears,  there  has  been  one  little 
countenance  before  me  — 

"Yes,  —  Rose's." 

"  You  treat  me  as  if  I  were  a  boy,"  he  said,  vehe- 


BIDIANE   FALLS   IN  A    RIVER.  467 

mently,  "  on  this  day  when  I  was  so  important.  Why 
are  you  so  flippant  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  she  said,  coaxingly. 

"  Angry,"  he  muttered,  in  a  shocked  voice.  "  I  am 
not  angry.  How  could  I  be  with  you,  whom  I  love 
so  much  ?  " 

"  Easily,"  she  murmured.  "  I  scarcely  wished  to 
see  you  to-day.  I  almost  dreaded  to  hear  you  had 
been  elected,  for  I  thought  you  would  be  angry  be 
cause  we  —  because  Claudine,  and  my  aunt,  and  I, 
talked  against  Mr.  Greening,  and  drove  him  out,  and 
suggested  you.  I  know  men  don't  like  to  be  helped 
by  women." 

"Your  efforts  counted,"  he  said,  patiently,  and  yet 
with  desperate  haste,  for  they  were  rapidly  nearing 
the  inn,  "  yet  you  know  Sleeping  Water  is  a  small 
district,  and  the  county  is  large.  There  was  in  some 
places  great  dissatisfaction  with  Mr.  Greening,  but 
don't  talk  of  him.  My  dear  one,  will  you  — 

"  You  don't  know  the  worst  thing  about  me,"  she 
interrupted,  in  a  low  voice.  "  There  was  one  dreadful 
thing  I  did." 

He  checked  an  oncoming  flow  of  endearing  words, 
and  stared  at  her.  "  You  have  been  flirting,"  he  said 
at  last. 

"  Worse  than  that,"  she  said,  shamefacedly.  "  If 
you  say  first  that  you  will  forgive  me,  I  will  tell  you 
about  it  —  no,  I  will  not  either.  I  shall  just  tell 


468  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

you,  and  if  you  don't  want  to  overlook  it  you  need 
not  — why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  he  muttered,  with  an  averted 
face.  He  had  suddenly  become  as  rigid  as  marble, 
and  Bidiane  surveyed  him  in  bewildered  surprise, 
until  a  sudden  illumination  broke  over  her,  when  she 
lapsed  into  nervous  amusement. 

"  You  have  always  been  very  kind  to  me,  very 
interested,"  she  said,  with  the  utmost  gentleness  and 
sweetness  ;  "  surely  you  are  not  going  to  lose  patience 
now." 

"Go  on,"  said  Agapit,  stonily,  "tell  me  about  this 
—  this  escapade." 

"  How  bad  a  thing  would  I  have  to  do  for  you  not 
to  forgive  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Bidiane  —  de  grace,  continue." 

"But  I  want  to  know,"  she  said,  persistently. 
"  Suppose  I  had  just  murdered  some  one,  and  had 
not  a  friend  in  the  world,  would  you  stand  by 
me  ? " 

He  would  not  reply  to  her,  and  she  went  on,  "  I 
know  you  think  a  good  deal  of  your  honor,  but  the 
world  is  full  of  bad  people.  Some  one  ought  to  love 
them  —  if  you  were  going  to  be  hanged  to-morrow  I 
would  visit  you  in  your  cell.  I  would  take  you 
flowers  and  something  to  eat,  and  I  might  even  go 
to  the  scaffold  with  you." 

Agapit   in   dumb   anguish,   and   scarcely  knowing 


BIDIANR   FALLS  IN  A    RIVER.  469 

what  he  did,  snatched  his  hat  from  his  head  and 
swung  it  to  and  fro. 

"  You  had  better  put  on  your  hat,"  she  said, 
amiably,  "you  will  take  cold." 

Agapit,  suddenly  seized  her  by  the  shoulders  and, 
holding  her  firmly,  but  gently,  stared  into  her  eyes 
that  were  full  of  tears.  "  Ah !  you  amuse  yourself 
by  torturing  me,"  he  said,  with  a  groan  of  relief. 
"  You  are  as  pure  as  a  snowdrop,  you  have  not  been 
flirting." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  angry  with  you  for  being  hateful 
and  suspicious,"  she  said,  proudly,  and  with  a  heaving 
bosom,  and  she  averted  her  face  to  brush  the  tears 
from  her  eyes.  "  You  know  I  don't  care  a  rap  for 
any  man  in  the  world  but  Mr.  Nimmo,  except  the 
tiniest  atom  of  respect  for  you." 

Agapit  at  once  broke  into  abject  apologies,  and 
being  graciously  forgiven,  he  humbly  entreated  her 
to  continue  the  recital  of  her  misdeeds. 

"  It  was  when  we  began  to  make  bombance"  she 
said,  in  a  lofty  tone.  "  Every  one  assured  us  that  we 
must  have  rum,  but  Claudine  would  not  let  us  take 
her  money  for  it,  because  her  husband  drank  until 
he  made  his  head  queer  and  had  that  dreadful  fall. 
She  said  to  buy  anything  with  her  money  but 
liquor.  We  didn't  know  what  to  do  until  one  day  a 
man  came  in  and  told  us  that  if  we  wanted  money 
we  should  go  to  the  rich  members  of  our  party.  He 


47O  KOSE   A    CHAKLfTTE. 

mentioned  Mr.  Smith,  in  Weymouth,  and  I  said, 
'Well,  I  will  go  and  ask  him  for  money  to  buy 
something  for  these  wicked  men  to  stop  them  from 
voting  for  a  wretch  who  calls  us  names.'  'But  you 
must  not  say  that,'  replied  the  man,  and  he  laughed. 
'  You  must  go  to  Mr.  Smith  and  say,  "  There  is  an 
election  coming  on,  and  there  will  be  great  doings  at 
the  Sleeping  Water  Inn,  and  it  ought  to  be  painted." 
'But  it  has  just  been  painted,'  I  said.  'Never 
mind,'  he  told  me,  'it  must  be  painted.'  Then  I 
understood,  and  Claudine  and  I  went  to  Mr.  Smith, 
and  asked  him  if  it  would  not  be  a  wise  thing  to 
paint  the  inn,  and  he  laughed  and  said,  '  By  all  manner 
of  means,  yes,  —  give  it  a  good  thick  coat  and  make 
it  stick  on  well,'  and  he  gave  us  some  bills." 

"  How  many  ?  "  asked   Agapit,  for  Bidiane's  voice 
was  sinking  lower  and  lower. 

"  One  hundred  dollars,  — just  what  Claudine  had." 

"  And  you  spent  it,  dearest  child  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  just  melted  away.     You  know  how  money 
goes.     But  I  shall  pay  it  back  some  day." 

"  How  will  you  get  the  money  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh.      "  I  shall 
try  to  earn  it." 

"  You  may  earn  it  now,  in  the  quarter  of  a  min 
ute,"  he  said,  fatuously. 

"  And  you  call  yourself  an  honest  man  - —  you  talk 
against  bribery  and  corruption,  you  doubt  poor  lonely 


BIDIANE   FALLS   IN  A    RIVER.  47 1 

orphans  when  they  are  going  to  confess  little  pecca 
dilloes,  and  fancy  in  your  wicked  heart  that  they 
have  committed  some  awful  sin ! "  said  Bidiane,  in 
low,  withering  tones.  "  I  think  you  had  better  go 
home,  sir." 

They  had  arrived  in  front  of  the  inn,  and,  although 
Agapit  knew  that  she  ought  to  go  at  once  and  put 
off  her  wet  shoes,  he  still  lingered,  and  said,  de 
lightedly,  in  low,  cautious  tones,  "But,  Bidiane,  you 
have  surely  a  little  affection  for  me  —  and  one  short 
kiss  —  very  short  —  certainly  it  would  not  be  so 
wicked." 

"  If  you  do  not  love  a  man,  it  is  a  crime  to 
embrace  him,"  she  said,  with  cold  severity. 

"Then  I  look  forward  to  more  gracious  times,"  he 
replied.  "  Good  night,  little  one,  in  twenty  minutes 
I  must  be  in  Belliveau's  Cove." 

Bidiane,  strangely  subdued  in  appearance,  stood 
watching  him  as,  with  eyes  riveted  on  her,  he  ex 
tended  a  grasping  hand  towards  Turenne's  hanging 
bridle.  When  he  caught  it  he  leaped  into  the  sad 
dle,  and  Bidiane,  supposing  herself  to  be  rid  of  him, 
mischievously  blew  him  a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  her 
fingers. 

In  a  trice  he  had  thrown  himself  from  Turenne's 
back  and  had  caught  her  as  she  started  to  run  swiftly 
to  the  house. 

"  Do  not  squeal,  dear  slippery  eel,"  he  said,  laugh- 


4/2  ROSE   A    CIJARLITTE. 

ingly,  "thou  hast  called  me  back,  and  I  shall  kiss 
thee.  Now  go,"  and  he  released  her,  as  she  strug 
gled  in  his  embrace,  laughing  for  the  first  time  since 
her  capture  by  the  river.  "  Once  I  have  held  you  in 
my  arms  —  now  you  will  come  again,"  and  shaking 
his  head  and  with  many  a  backward  glance,  he  set 
off  through  the  rain  and  the  darkness  towards  his 
waiting  friends  and  supporters,  a  few  miles  farther 
on. 

An  hour  later,  Claudine  left  the  vivacious,  un 
wearied  revellers  below,  and  went  up-stairs  to  see 
whether  Bidiane  had  returned  home.  She  found  her 
in  bed,  staring  thoughtfully  at  the  ceiling. 

"  Claudine,"  she  said,  turning  her  brown  eyes  on 
her  friend  and  admirer,  "  how  did  you  feel  when  Isi 
dore  asked  you  to  marry  him  ? " 

"  How  did  I  feel  —  mise'ricorde,  how  can  I  tell  ? 
For  one  thing,  I  wished  that  he  would  give  up  the 
drink." 

"  But  how  did  you  feel  towards  him  ?  "  asked  Bidi 
ane,  curiously.  "  Was  it  like  being  lost  in  a  big 
river,  and  swimming  about  for  ages,  and  having 
noises  in  your  head,  and  some  one  else  was  swimming 
about  trying  to  find  you,  and  you  couldn't  touch  his 
hand  for  a  long  time,  and  then  he  dragged  you  out 
to  the  shore,  which  was  the  shore  of  matrimony  ? " 

Claudine,  who  found  nothing  in  the  world  more 
delectable  than  Bidiane' s  fancies,  giggled  with  de- 


BIDIANE  FALLS  IN  A    RIVER.  473 

light.  Then  she  asked  her  where  she  had  spent  the 
evening. 

Bidiane  related  her  adventure,  whereupon  Claudine 
said,  dryly,  "  I  guess  the  other  person  in  your  river 
must  be  Agapit  LeNoir." 

"Would  you  marry  him  if  he  asked  you?"  said 
Bidiane. 

"  Mercy,  how  do  I  know  —  has  he  said  anything  of 
me  ? " 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Bidiane,  hastily.  "  He  wants  to 
marry  me." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  said  Claudine,  soberly. 
"  I  can't  tell  you  what  love  is.  You  can't  talk  it.  I 
guess  he'll  teach  you  if  you  give  him  a  chance.  He's 
a  good  man,  Bidiane.  You'd  better  take  him  —  it's 
an  opening  for  you,  too.  He'll  get  on  out  in  the 
world." 

Bidiane  laid  her  head  back  on  her  pillow,  and  slipped 
again  into  a  hazy,  dreamy  condition  of  mind,  in  which 
the  ever  recurring  subject  of  meditation  was  the  one 
of  the  proper  experience  and  manifestation  of  love 
between  men  and  the  women  they  adore. 

"  I  don't  love  him,  yet  what  makes  me  so  cross 
when  he  looks  at  another  woman,  even  my  beloved 
Rose  ? "  she  murmured ;  and  with  this  puzzling 
question  bravely  to  the  fore  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

CHARLITTE    COMES    BACK. 

"  From  dawn  to  gloaming,  and  from  dark  to  dawn, 
Dreams  the  unvoiced,  declining  Michaelmas. 
O'er  all  the  orchards  where  a  summer  was 

The  noon  is  full  of  peace,  and  loiters  on. 

The  branches  stir  not  as  the  light  airs  run 

All  day ;  their  stretching  shadows  slowly  pass 
Through  the  curled  surface  of  the  faded  grass, 

Telling  the  hours  of  the  cloudless  sun." 

J.    F.    H. 

THE  last  golden  days  of  summer  had  come,  and 
the  Acadien  farmers  were  rejoicing  in  a  bountiful 
harvest.  Day  by  day  huge  wagons,  heaped  high 
with  grain,  were  driven  to  the  threshing-mills,  and 
day  by  day  the  stores  of  vegetables  and  fruit  laid 
in  for  the  winter  were  increased  in  barn  and  store 
house. 

Everything  had  done  well  this  year,  even  the 
flower  gardens,  and  some  of  the  more  pious  of 
the  women  attributed  their  abundance  of  blossoms 
to  the  blessing  of  the  seeds  by  the  parish  priests. 

Agapit  LeNoir,  who  now  naturally  took  a  broader 
474 


CHARLITTE    COMES  BACK'.  4/5 

and  wider  interest  in  the  affairs  of  his  countrymen, 
sat  on  Rose  a  Charlitte's  lawn,  discussing  matters  in 
general.  Soon  he  would  have  to  go  to  Halifax  for 
his  first  session  of  the  local  legislature.  Since  his 
election  he  had  come  a  little  out  of  the  shyness  and 
reserve  that  had  settled  upon  him  in  his  early  man 
hood.  He  was  now  usually  acknowledged  to  be  a 
rising  young  man,  and  one  sure  to  become  a  credit 
to  his  nation  and  his  province.  He  would  be  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Dominion  Parliament  some  day,  the  old 
people  said,  and  in  his  more  mature  age  he  might 
even  become  a  Senator.  He  had  obtained  just  what 
he  had  needed,  —  a  start  in  life.  Everything  was 
open  to  him  now.  With  his  racial  zeal  and  love  for 
his  countrymen,  he  could  become  a  representative 
man,  —  an  Acadien  of  the  Acadiens. 

Then,  too,  he  would  marry  an  accomplished  wife, 
who  would  be  of  great  assistance  to  him,  for  it  was 
a  well-known  fact  that  he  was  engaged  to  his  lively 
distant  relative,  Bidiane  LeNoir,  the  young  girl  who 
had  been  educated  abroad  by  the  Englishman  from 
Boston. 

Just  now  he  was  talking  to  this  same  relative, 
who,  instead  of  sitting  down  quietly  beside  him,  was 
pursuing  an  erratic  course  of  wanderings  about  the 
trees  on  the  lawn.  She  professed  to  be  looking  for 
a  robin's  deserted  nest,  but  she  was  managing  at  the 
same  time  to  give  careful  attention  to  what  her  lover 


4/6  KOSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

was  saying,  as  he  sat  with  eyes  fixed  now  upon  her, 
now  upon  the  Bay,  and  waved  at  intervals  the  long 
pipe  that  he  was  smoking. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  continuing  his  subject,  "that  is 
one  of  the  first  things  I  shall  lay  before  the  House 
—  the  lack  of  proper  schoolhouse  accommodation  on 
the  Bay." 

"  You  are  very  much  interested  in  the  school- 
houses,"  said  Bidiane,  sarcastically.  "  You  have 
talked  of  them  quite  ten  minutes." 

His  face  lighted  up  swiftly.  "  Let  us  return,  then, 
to  our  old,  old  subject,  —  will  you  not  reconsider  your 
cruel  decision  not  to  marry  me,  and  go  with  me  to 
Halifax  this  autumn  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Bidiane,  decidedly,  yet  with  an  evident 
liking  for  the  topic  of  conversation  presented  to  her. 
"  I  have  told  you  again  and  again  that  I  will  not.  I 
am  surprised  at  your  asking.  Who  would  comfort 
our  darling  Rose  ?  " 

"  Possibly,  I  say,  only  possibly,  she  is  not  as  de 
pendent  upon  us  as  you  imagine." 

"  Dependent  !  of  course  she  is  dependent.  Am  I 
not  with  her  nearly  all  the  time.  See,  there  she 
comes, — the  beauty!  She  grows  more  charming 
every  day.  She  is  like  those  lovely  Flemish  women, 
who  are  so  tall,  and  graceful,  and  simple,  and  elegant, 
and  whose  heads  are  like  burnished  gold.  I  wish  you 
could  see  them,  Agapit.  Mr.  Nimmo  says  they  have 


CHARLITTE    COMES  BACK.  477 

preserved  intact  the  admirable  naivete  of  the  women 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Their  husbands  are  often 
brutal,  yet  they  never  rebel." 

"  Is  naivete  justifiable  under  those  circumstances, 
mignonnc  ?  " 

"  Hush,  —  she  will  hear  you.  Now  what  does 
that  boy  want,  I  wonder.  Just  see  him  scampering 
up  the  road." 

He  wished  to  see  her,  and  was  soon  stumbling 
through  a  verbal  message.  Bidiane  kindly  but  firmly 
followed  him  in  it,  and,  stopping  him  whenever  he 
used  a  corrupted  French  word,  made  him  substitute 
another  for  it. 

"  No,  Raoul,  notfe'tions  but j* /tats "  (I  was).  "Petit 
mieux"  (a  little  better),  "not  p'tit  mieux.  La  rue 
not  la  street.  Ces  jeunes  demoiselles  "  (those  young 
ladies),  "  not  ces  jeunes  ladies." 

"They  are  so  careless,  these  Acadiens  of  ours," 
she  said,  turning  to  Agapit,  with  a  despairing  ges 
ture.  "  This  boy  knows  good  French,  yet  he  speaks 
the  impure.  Why  do  his  people  say  becker  for  baiser" 
(kiss)  "  &s\digueule  for  bouche"  (mouth)  "  and  ecJiine  for 
dos  "  (back)  ?  "  It  is  so  vulgar  !  " 

"Patience,"  muttered  Agapit,  "what  does  he 
wish  ? " 

"  His  sister  Lucie  wants  you  and  me  to  go  up  to 
Grosses  Coques  this  evening  to  supper.  Some  of 
the  D'Entremonts  are  coming  from  Pubnico.  There 


47$  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

will  be  a  big  wagon  filled  with  straw,  and  all  the 
young  people  from  here  are  going,  Raoul  says.  It 
will  be  fun  ;  will  you  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  it  will  please  you." 

"  It  will,"  and  she  turned  to  the  boy.  "  Run 
home,  Raoul,  and  tell  Lucie  that  we  accept  her  in 
vitation.  Thou  art  not  vexed  with  me  for  correct 
ing  thee  ? " 

" Nenni"  (no),  said  the  child,  displaying  a  dimple 
in  his  cheek. 

Bidiane  caught  him  and  kissed  him.  "  In  the 
spring  we  will  have  great  fun,  thou  and  I.  We  will 
go  back  to  the  woods,  and  with  a  sharp  knife  tear  the 
bark  from  young  spruces,  and  eat  the  juicy  bobillon 
inside.  Then  we  will  also  find  candy.  Canst  thou 
dig  up  the  fern  roots  and  peel  them  until  thou  findest 
the  tender  morsel  at  the  bottom  ?  " 

"  Out"  laughed  the  child,  and  Bidiane,  after  push 
ing  him  towards  Rose,  for  an  embrace  from  her, 
conducted  him  to  the  gate. 

"  Is  there  any  use  in  asking  Rose  to  go  with  us 
this  evening  ? "  she  said,  coming  back  to  Agapit, 
and  speaking  in  an  undertone. 

"  No,  I  think  not." 

"  Why  is  it  that  she  avoids  all  junketing,  and 
sits  only  with  sick  people  ?  " 

He  murmured  an  uneasy,  unintelligible  re 
sponse,  and  Bidiane  again  directed  her  attention 


CHARLITTE    COMES  BACK.  4/9 

to  Rose.  "  What  are  you  staring  at  so  intently, 
ma  chcre  ?  " 

"That  beautiful  stranger,"  said  Rose,  nodding  to 
wards  the  Bay.  "  It  is  a  new  sail." 

"  Every  woman  on  the  Bay  knows  the  ships  but 
me,"  said  Bidiane,  discontentedly.  "  I  have  got  out 
of  it  from  being  so  long  away." 

"  And  why  do  the  girls  know  the  ships  ? "  asked 
Agapit. 

Bidiane  discreetly  refused  to  answer  him. 

"  Because  they  have  lovers  on  board.  Your  lover 
stays  on  shore,  little  one." 

"And  poor  Rose  looks  over  the  sea,"  said  Bidiane, 
dreamily.  "  I  should  think  that  you  might  trust  me 
now  with  the  story  of  her  trouble,  whatever  it  is,  but 
you  are  so  reserved,  so  fearful  of  making  wild  state 
ments.  You  don't  treat  me  as  well  even  as  you  do  a 
business  person,  —  a  client  is  it  you  call  one  ?  " 

Agapit  smiled  happily.  "  Marry  me,  then,  and  in 
becoming  your  advocate  I  will  deal  plainly  with  you 
as  a  client,  and  state  fully  to  you  all  the  facts  of  this 
case." 

"  I  daresay  we  shall  have  frightful  quarrels  when 
we  are  married,"  said  Bidiane,  cheerfully. 

"  I  daresay." 

"  Just  see  how  Rose  stares  at  that  ship. 

"  She  is  a  beauty,"  said  Agapit,  critically,  "  and 
foreign  rigged." 


480  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

There  was  "a  free  wind  "  blowing,  and  the  beauti 
ful  stranger  moved  like  a  graceful  bird  before  it. 
Rose  —  the  favorite  occupation  in  whose  quiet  life 
was  to  watch  the  white  sails  that  passed  up  and 
down  the  Bay  —  still  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  it,  and 
presently  said,  "  The  stranger  is  pointing  towards 
Sleeping  Water." 

"  I  will  get  the  marine  glass,"  said  Bidiane,  run 
ning  to  the  house. 

"  She  is  putting  out  a  boat,"  said  Rose,  when  she 
came  back.  "  She  is  coming  in  to  the  wharf." 

"Allow  me  to  see  for  one  minute,  Rose,"  said 
Agapit,  and  he  extended  his  hand  for  the  glass ; 
then  silently  watched  the  sailors  running  about 
and  looking  no  larger  than  ants  on  the  distant 
deck. 

"They  are  not  going  to  the  wharf,"  said  Bidi 
ane.  "They  are  making  for  that  rock  by  the  inn 
bathing-house.  Perhaps  they  will  engage  in  swim 
ming." 

A  slight  color  appeared  in  Rose's  cheeks,  and  she 
glanced  longingly  at  the  glass  that  Agapit  still  held. 
The  mystery  of  the  sea  and  the  magic  of  ships  and 
of  seafaring  lives  was  interwoven  with  her  whole 
being.  She  felt  an  intense  gentle  interest  in  the 
strange  sail  and  the  foreign  sailors,  and  nothing 
would  have  given  her  greater  pleasure  than  to  have 
shown  them  some  kindness. 


CHARLITTE    COMES  BACK.  481 

"I  wish,"  she  murmured,  "that  I  were  now  at  the 
inn.  They  should  have  a  jug  of  cream,  and  some 
fresh  fruit." 

The  horseshoe  cottage  being  situated  on  rising 
ground,  a  little  beyond  the  river,  afforded  the  three 
people  on  the  lawn  an  uninterrupted  view  of  the 
movements  of  the  boat.  While  Bidiane  prattled 
on,  and  severely  rebuked  Agapit  for  his  selfishness 
in  keeping  the  glass  to  himself,  Rose  watched  the 
boat  touching  the  big  rocks,  where  one  man  sprang 
from  it,  and  walked  towards  the  inn. 

She  could  see  his  figure  in  the  distance,  looking  at 
first  scarcely  larger  than  a  black  lead  pencil,  but  soon 
taking  on  the  dimensions  of  a  rather  short,  thick-set 
man.  He  remained  stationary  on  the  inn  veranda 
for  a  few  minutes,  then,  leaving  it,  he  passed  down 
the  village  street. 

"  It  is  some  stranger  from  abroad,  asking  his  way 
about,"  said  Bidiane  ;  "  one  of  the  numerous  Comeau 
tribe,  no  doubt.  Oh,  I  hope  he  will  go  on  the  drive 
to-night." 

"Why,  I  believe  he  is  coming  here,"  she  ex 
claimed,  after  another  period  of  observation  of  the 
stranger's  movements ;  "  he  is  passing  by  all  the 
houses.  Yes,  he  is  turning  in  by  the  cutting 
through  the  hill.  Who  can  he  be  ? " 

Rose  and  Agapit,  grown  strangely  silent,  did 
not  answer  her,  and,  without  thinking  of  examin- 


482  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

ing  their  faces,  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  man 
rapidly  approaching  them. 

"  He  is  neither  old  nor  young,"  she  said,  viva 
ciously.  "  Yes,  he  is,  too,  —  he  is  old.  His  hair  is 
quite  gray.  He  swaggers  a  little  bit.  I  think  he 
must  be  the  captain  of  the  beautiful  stranger.  There 
is  an  indefinable  something  about  him  that  doesn't 
belong  to  a  common  sailor ;  don't  you  think  so, 
Agapit  ? " 

Her  red  head  tilted  itself  sideways,  yet  she  still 
kept  a  watchful  eye  on  the  newcomer.  She  could 
now  see  that  he  was  quietly  dressed  in  dark  brown 
clothes,  that  his  complexion  was  also  brown,  his 
eyes  small  and  twinkling,  his  lips  thick,  and  partly 
covered  by  a  short,  grizzled  mustache.  He  wore  on 
his  head  a  white  straw  hat,  that  he  took  off  when  he 
neared  the  group. 

His  face  was  now  fully  visible,  and  there  was  a 
wild  cry  from   Rose.      "  Ah,  Charlitte,   Charlitte,  — 
you  have  come  back  !  " 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

BIDIANE    RECEIVES    A    SHOCK. 

"  Whate'er  thy  lot,  whoe'er  thou  be,  — 
Confess  thy  folly,  kiss  the  rod, 
And  in  thy  chastening  sorrow,  see 

The  hand  of  God." 

MONTGOMERY. 

BIDIANE  flashed  around  upon  her  companions. 
Rose  —  pale,  trembling,  almost  unearthly  in  a 
beauty  from  which  everything  earthly  and  mate 
rial  seemed  to  have  been  purged  away  —  stood 
extending  her  hands  to  the  wanderer,  her  only 
expression  one  of  profound  thanksgiving  for  his 
return. 

Agapit,  on  the  contrary,  sat  stock-still,  his  face 
convulsed  with  profound  and  bitter  contempt,  almost 
with  hatred ;  and  Bidiane,  in  speechless  astonish 
ment,  stared  from  him  to  the  others. 

Charlitte  was  not  dead,  —  he  had  returned  ;  and 
Rose  was  not  surprised,  —  she  was  even  glad  to 
see  him !  What  did  it  mean,  and  where  was  Mr. 
Nimmo's  share  in  this  reunion  ?  She  clenched  her 
hands,  her  eyes  filled  with  despairing  tears,  and,  in 

483 


484  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

subdued  anger,  she  surveyed  the  very  ordinary-look 
ing  man,  who  had  surrendered  one  of  his  brown 
hands  to  Rose,  in  pleased  satisfaction. 

"You  are  more  stunning  than  ever,  Rose,"  he 
said,  coolly  kissing  her ;  "  and  who  is  this  young 
lady  ?  "  and  he  pointed  a  sturdy  forefinger  at  Bidi- 
ane,  who  stood  in  the  background,  trembling  in 
every  limb. 

"  It  is  Bidiane  LeNoir,  Charlitte,  from  up  the  Bay. 
Bidiane,  come  shake  hands  with  my  husband." 

"  I  forbid,"  said  Agapit,  calmly.  He  had  recov 
ered  himself,  and,  with  a  face  as  imperturbable  as 
that  of  the  sphinx,  he  now  sat  staring  up  into  the 
air. 

"Agapit,"  said  Rose,  pleadingly,  "will  you  not 
greet  my  husband  after  all  these  years  ? " 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not,"  and  coolly  taking  up 
his  pipe  he  lighted  it,  turned  away  from  them,  and 
began  to  smoke. 

Rose,  with  her  blue  eyes  dimmed  with  tears, 
looked  at  her  husband.  "  Do  not  be  displeased. 
He  will  forgive  in  time ;  he  has  been  a  brother  to 
me  all  the  years  that  you  have  been  away." 

Charlitte  understood  Agapit  better  than  she  did, 
and,  shrugging  his  shoulders  as  if  to  beg  her  not  to 
distress  herself,  he  busied  himself  with  staring  at 
Bidiane,  whose  curiosity  and  bewilderment  had  cul 
minated  in  a  kind  of  stupefaction,  in  which  she  stood 


BIDIANE   RECEIVES  A    SHOCK.  485 

surreptitiously  pinching  her  arm  in  order  to  convince 
herself  that  this  wonderful  reappearance  was  real,  — • 
that  the  man  sitting  so  quietly  before  her  was 
actually  the  husband  of  her  beloved  Rose. 

Charlitte's  eyes  twinkled  mischievously,  as  he  sur 
veyed  her.  "  Were  you  ever  shipwrecked,  young 
lady  ?  "  he  asked. 

Bidiane  shuddered,  and  then,  with  difficulty,  ejacu 
lated,  "  No,  never." 

"  I  was,"  said  Charlitte,  unblushingly,  "  on  a  can 
nibal  island.  All  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  eaten. 
I  was  the  only  one  spared,  and  I  was  left  shut  up  in  a 
hut  in  a  palm  grove  until  six  months  ago,  when  a 
passing  ship  took  me  off  and  brought  me  to  New 
York." 

Bidiane,  by  means  of  a  vigorous  effort,  was  able  to 
partly  restore  her  mind  to  working  order.  Should 
she  believe  this  man  or  not  ?  She  felt  dimly  that 
she  did  not  like  him,  yet  she  could  not  resist  Rose's 
touching,  mute  entreaty  that  she  should  bestow  some 
recognition  on  the  returned  one.  Therefore  she  said, 
confusedly,  "  Those  cannibals,  where  did  they  live  ?  " 

"  In  the  South  Sea  Islands,  'way  yonder,"  and 
Charlitte's  eyes  seemed  to  twinkle  into  immense 
distance. 

Rose  was  hanging  her  head.  This  recital  pained 
her,  and  before  Bidiane  could  again  speak,  she  said, 
hurriedly,  "  Do  not  mention  it.  Our  Lord  and  the 


486  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

blessed  Virgin  have  brought  you  home.     Ah  !  how 
glad  Father  Duvair  will  be,  and  the  village." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  said  Charlitte.  "  Do  you  think 
I  care  for  the  village.  I  have  come  to  see  you." 

For  the  first  time  Rose  shrank  from  him,  and 
Agapit  brought  down  his  eyes  from  the  sky  to 
glance  keenly  at  him. 

"Charlitte,"     faltered    Rose,     "there    have    been 
great    changes    since   you    went    away.       I  —  I  - 
and  she  hesitated,  and  looked  at  Bidiane. 

Bidiane  shrank  behind  a  spruce-tree  near  which 
she  was  standing,  and  from  its  shelter  looked  out 
like  a  small  red  squirrel  of  an  inquiring  turn  of 
mind.  She  felt  that  she  was  about  to  be  banished, 
and  in  the  present  dazed  state  of  her  brain  she 
dreaded  to  he  alone. 

Agapit's  inexorable  gaze  sought  her  out,  and, 
taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  he  sauntered  over 
to  her.  "  Wilt  thou  run  away,  little  one  ?  We  may 
have  something  to  talk  of  not  fit  for  thy  tender 
ears." 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  she  murmured,  shocked  into  unex 
pected  submission  by  the  suppressed  misery  of  his 
voice.  "  I  will  be  in  the  garden,"  and  she  darted 
away. 

The  coast  was  now  clear  for  any  action  the  new 
arrival  might  choose  to  take.  His  first  proceeding 
was  to  stare  hard  at  Agapit,  as  if  he  wished  that  he, 


BIDIANE    RECEIVES  A    SHOCK.  487 

too,  would  take  himself  away ;  but  this  Agapit  had 
no  intention  of  doing,  and  he  smoked  on  impertur- 
bably,  pretending  not  to  see  Charlitte's  irritated 
glances,  and  keeping  his  own  fixed  on  the  azure 
depths  of  the  sky. 

"  You  mention  changes,"  said  Charlitte,  at  last, 
turning  to  his  wife.  "  What  changes  ?  " 

"  You  have  just  arrived,  you  have  heard  nothing, 
—  and  yet  there  would  be  little  to  hear  about  me, 
and    Sleeping    Water    does     not     change    much, — 
yet  — 

Charlitte's  cool  glance  wandered  contemptuously 
over  that  part  of  the  village  nearest  them.  "  It  is 
dull  here,  —  as  dull  as  the  cannibal  islands.  I  think 
moss  would  grow  on  me  if  I  stayed." 

"But  it  would  break  my  heart  to  leave  it,"  said 
Rose,  desperately. 

"  I  would  take  good  care  of  you,"  he  said,  jocu 
larly.      "  We  would  go  to  New  Orleans.      You  would 
amuse  yourself  well.    There  are  young  men  there,  — 
plenty  of  them,  —  far  smarter  than  the  boys  on  the 
Bay." 

Rose  was  in  an  agony.  With  frantic  eyes  she 
devoured  the  cool,  cynical  face  of  her  husband, 
then,  with  a.  low  cry,  she  fell  on  her  knees  before 
him.  "Charlitte,  Charlitte,  I  must  confess." 

Charlitte  at  once  became  intensely  interested,  and 
forgot  to  watch  Agapit,  who,  however,  got  up,  and, 


488  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

savagely  biting  his  pipe,  strolled  to  a  little  dis 
tance. 

"I  have  done  wrong,  my  husband,"  sobbed  Rose. 

Charlitte's  eyes  twinkled.  Was  he  going  to  hear 
a  confession  of  guilt  that  would  make  his  own  seem 
lighter  ? 

"Forgive  me,  forgive  me,"  she  moaned.  "My 
heart  is  glad  that  you  have  come  back,  yet,  oh,  my 
husband,  I  must  tell  you  that  it  also  cries  out  for 
another." 

"  For  Agapit  ? "  he  said,  kindly,  stroking  her 
clenched  hands. 

"  No,  —  no,  no,  for  a  stranger.  You  know  I  never 
loved  you  as  a  woman  should  love  her  husband.  I 
was  so  young  when  I  married.  I  thought  only  of 
attending  to  my  house.  Then  you  went  away ;  I 
was  sorry,  so  sorry,  when  news  came  of  your  death, 
but  my  heart  was  not  broken.  Five  years  ago 
this  stranger  came,  and  I  felt  —  oh,  I  cannot  tell 
you  —  but  I  found  what  this  love  was.  Then  I  had 
to  send  him  away,  but,  although  he  was  gone,  he 
seemed  to  be  still  with  me.  I  thought  of  him  all 
the  time,  — the  wind  seemed  to  whisper  his  words  in 
my  ear  as  I  walked.  I  saw  his  handsome  face,  his 
smiling  eyes.  I  went  daily  over  the  paths  his  feet 
used  to  take.  After  a  long,  long  time,  I  was  able  to 
tear  him  from  my  mind.  Now  I  know  that  I  shall 
never  see  him  again,  that  I  shall  only  meet  him  after 


BIDIANE  RECEIVES  A   SHOCK.  489 

I  die,  yet  I  feel  that  I  belong  to  him,  that  he  belongs 
to  me.  Oh,  my  husband,  this  is  love,  and  is  it  right 
that,  feeling  so,  I  should  go  with  you  ? " 

"Who  is  this  man?"  asked  Charlitte.  "What  is 
he  called  ? " 

Rose  winced.  "  Vesper  is  his  name  ;  Vesper 
Nimmo,  —  but  do  not  let  us  talk  of  him.  I  have 
put  him  from  my  mind." 

"  Did  he  make  love  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  but  let  us  pass  that  over,  • —  it  is 
wicked  to  talk  of  it  now." 

Charlitte,  who  was  not  troubled  with  any  delicacy 
of  feeling,  was  about  to  put  some  searching  and 
crucial  questions  to  her,  but  forbore,  moved,  despite 
himself,  by  the  anguish  and  innocence  of  the  gaze 
bent  upon  him.  "  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  In  Paris.  I  have  done  wrong,  wrong,"  and  she 
again  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  her  whole 
frame  shook  with  emotion.  "  Having  had  one  hus 
band,  it  would  have  been  better  to  have  thought  only 
of  him.  I  do  not  think  one  should  marry  again, 
unless  — 

"Nonsense,"  said  Charlitte,  abruptly.  "The  fel 
low  should  have  married  you.  He  got  tired,  I  guess. 
By  this  time  he's  had  half  a  dozen  other  fancies." 

Rose  shrank  from  him  in  speechless  horror,  and, 
seeing  it,  Charlitte  made  haste  to  change  the  subject 
of  conversation.  "  Where  is  the  boy  ?  " 


4QO  HOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

"  He  is  with  him,"  she  said,  hurriedly. 

"That  was  pretty  cute  in  you,"  said  Charlitte, 
with  a  good-natured  vulgar  laugh.  "  You  were 
afraid  I'd  come  home  and  take  him  from  you, — you 
always  were  a  little  fool,  Rose.  Get  up  off  the 
grass,  and  sit  down,  and  don't  distress  yourself  so. 
This  isn't  a  hanging  matter,  and  I'm  not  going  to 
bully  you  ;  I  never  did." 

"  No,  never,"  she  said,  with  a  fresh  outburst  of 
tears.  "You  were  always  kind,  my  husband." 

"  I  think  our  marriage  was  all  a  mistake,"  he  said, 
good-humoredly,  "  but  we  can't  undo  it.  I  knew 
you  never  liked  me,  —  if  you  had,  I  might  never  - 
that  is,  things  might  have  been  different.  Tell  me 
now  when  that  fool,  Agapit,  first  began  to  set  you 
against  me  ?  " 

"  He  has  not  set  me  against  you,  my  husband  ;  he 
rarely  speaks  of  you." 

"When  did  you  first  find  out  that  I  wasn't  dead?" 
said  Charlitte,  persistently  ;  and  Rose,  who  was  as 
wax  in  his  hands,  was  soon  saying,  hesitatingly,  "  I 
first  knew  that  he  did  not  care  for  you  when  Mr. 
Nimmo  went  away." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"He  broke  your  picture,  my  husband,  —  oh,  do 
not  make  me  tell  what  I  do  not  wish  to." 

"How  did  he  break  it?"  asked  Charlitte,  and  his 
face  darkened. 


B I  DIANE    RECEIVES   A    SHOCK.  491 

"  He  struck  it  with  his  hand,  —  but  I  had  it 
mended." 

"He  was  mad  because  I  was  keeping  you  from 
the  other  fellow.  Then  he  told  you  that  you  had 
better  give  him  the  mitten  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Rose,  sighing  heavily,  and  sitting 
mute,  like  a  prisoner  awaiting  sentence. 

"  You  have  not  done  quite  right,  Rose,"  said  her 
husband,  mildly,  "not  quite  right.  It  would  have 
been  better  for  you  to  have  given  that  stranger  the 
go  by.  He  was  only  amusing  himself.  Still,  I  can't 
blame  you.  You're  young,  and  mighty  fine  looking, 
and  you've  kept  on  the  straight  through  your  widow 
hood.  I  heard  once  from  some  sailors  how  you  kept 
the  young  fellows  off,  and  you  always  said  you'd  had 
a  good  husband.  I  shall  never  forget  that  you  called 
me  good,  Rose,  for  there  are  some  folks  that  think  I 
am  pretty  bad." 

"Then  they  are  evil  folks,"  she  said,  tremulously; 
"  are  we  not  all  sinners  ?  Does  not  our  Lord  com 
mand  us  to  forgive  those  who  repent  ?  " 

A  curious  light  came  into  Charlitte's  eyes,  and  he 
put  his  tongue  in  his  cheek.  Then  he  went  on, 
calmly.  "  I'm  on  my  way  from  Turk's  Island  to 
Saint  John,  New  Brunswick,  —  I've  got  a  cargo  of 
salt  to  unload  there,  and,  'pon  my  word,  I  hadn't  a 
thought  of  calling  here  until  I  got  up  in  the  Bay, 
working  towards  Petit  Passage.  I  guess  it  was  old 


492  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

habit  that  made  me  run  for  this  place,  and  I  thought 
I'd  give  you  a  call,  and  see  if  you  were  moping  to 
death,  and  wanted  to  go  away  with  me.  If  you  do, 
I'll  be  glad  to  have  you.  If  not,  I'll  not  bother 
you." 

A  deadly  faintness  came  over  Rose.  "  Charlitte, 
are  you  not  sorry  for  your  sin  ?  Ah  !  tell  me  that 
you  repent.  And  will  you  not  talk  to  Father  Duvair  ? 
So  many  quiet  nights  I  think  of  you  and  pray  that 
you  may  understand  that  you  are  being  led  into  this 
wickedness.  That  other  woman,  —  she  is  still  liv- 
ing  ?  " 

"  What  other  woman  ?  Oh,  Lord,  yes,  —  I  thought 
that  fool  Agapit  had  had  spies  on  me." 

Rose  was  so  near  fainting  that  she  only  half  com 
prehended  what  he  said. 

"  I  wish  you'd  come  with  me,"  he  went  on,  jocosely. 
"  If  you  happened  to  worry  I'd  send  you  back  to  this 
dull  little  hole.  You're  not  going  to  swoon,  are  you  ? 
Here,  put  your  head  on  this,"  and  he  drew  up  to  her 
a  small  table  on  which  Bidiane  had  been  playing 
solitaire.  "  You  used  not  to  be  delicate." 

"  I  am  not  now,"  she  whispered,  dropping  her  head 
on  her  folded  arms,  "  but  I  cannot  hold  myself  up. 
When  I  saw  you  come,  I  thought  it  was  to  say  you 
were  sorry.  Now  — 

"Come,  brace  up,  Rose,"  he  said,  uneasily.  "I'll 
sit  down  beside  you  for  awhile.  There's  lots  of  time 


BIDIANE   RECEIVES  A    SHOCK.  493 

for  me  to  repent  yet,"  and  he  chuckled  shortly  and 
struck  his  broad  chest  with  his  fist.  "  I'm  as  strong 
as  a  horse  ;  there's  nothing  wrong  with  me,  except  a 
little  rheumatism,  and  I'll  outgrow  that.  I'm  only 
fifty-two,  and  my  father  died  at  ninety.  Come  on,  girl, 
—  don't  cry.  I  wish  I  hadn't  started  this  talk  of 
taking  you  away.  You'd  be  glad  of  it,  though,  if 
you'd  go.  Listen  till  I  tell  you  what  a  fine  place 
New  Orleans  is  — 

Rose  did  not  listen  to  him.  She  still  sat  with  her 
flaxen  head  bowed  on  her  arms,  that  rested  on  the 
little  table.  She  was  a  perfect  picture  of  silent,  yet 
agitated  distress. 

"You  are  not  praying,  are  you?"  asked  her  hus 
band,  in  a  disturbed  manner.  "  I  believe  you  are. 
Come,  I'll  go  away." 

For  some  time  there  was  no  movement  in  the  half 
prostrated  figure,  then  the  head  moved  slightly,  and 
Charlitte  caught  a  faint  sentence,  "  Repent,  my  hus 
band." 

"Yes,  I  repent,"  he  said,  hastily.  "Good  Lord,  I'll 
do  anything.  Only  cheer  up  and  let  me  out  of  this." 

The  grief -stricken  Rose  pushed  back  the  hair  from 
her  tear-stained  face  and  slowly  raised  her  head  from 
her  arms. 

It  was  only  necessary  for  her  to  show  that  face  to 
her  husband.  So  impressed  was  it  with  the  stamp  of 
intense  anguish  of  mind,  of  grief  for  his  past  delin- 


494  ROSE  A    CHARLITTE. 

quencies  of  conduct,  of  a  sorrow  nobly,  quietly  borne 
through  long  years,  that  even  he  —  callous,  careless, 
and  thoughtless  —  was  profoundly  moved. 

For  a  long  time  he  was  silent.  Then  his  lip 
trembled  and  he  turned  his  head  aside.  "  Ton  my 
word,  Rose,  —  I  didn't  think  you'd  fret  like  this.  I'll 
do  better  ;  let  me  go  now." 

One  of  her  hands  stole  with  velvety  clasp  to  his 
brown  wrists,  and  while  the  gentle  touch  lasted  he 
sat  still,  listening  with  an  averted  face  to  the  words 
whispered  in  his  ear. 

Agapit,  in  the  meantime,  was  walking  in  the  gar 
den  with  Bidiane.  He  had  told  her  all  that  she 
wished  to  know  with  regard  to  the  recreant  husband, 
and  in  a  passionate,  resentful  state  of  mind  she  was 
storming  to  and  fro,  scarcely  knowing  what  she 
said. 

"  It  is  abominable,  treacherous  !  —  and  we  stand 
idly  here.  Go  and  drive  him  away,  Agapit.  He 
should  not  be  allowed  to  speak  to  our  spotless  Rose. 
I  should  think  that  the  skies  would  fall  —  and  I 
spoke  to  him,  the  traitor  !  Go,  Agapit,  —  I  wish 
you  would  knock  him  down." 

Agapit,  with  an  indulgent  glance,  stood  at  a  little 
distance  from  her,  softly  murmuring,  from  time  to 
time,  "  You  are  very  young,  Bidiane." 

"  Young !  I  am  glad  that  I  am  young,  so  that  I 
can  feel  angry.  You  are  stolid,  unfeeling.  You  care 


BIDIANE   RECEIVES  A    SHOCK.  495 

nothing  for  Rose.  I  shall  go  myself  and  tell  that 
wretch  to  his  face  what  I  think  of  him." 

She  was  actually  starting,  but  Agapit  caught  her 
gently  by  the  arm.  "  Bidiane,  restrain  yourself," 
and  drawing  her  under  the  friendly  shade  of  a  soli 
tary  pine-tree  that  had  been  left  when  the  garden 
was  made,  he  smoothed  her  angry  cheeks  and  kissed 
her  hot  forehead. 

"  You  condone  his  offence,  —  you,  also,  some  day, 
will  leave  me  for  some  woman,"  she  gasped. 

"  This  from  you  to  me,"  he  said,  quietly  and  proudly, 
"  when  you  know  that  we  Acadiens  are  proud  of  our 
virtue,  —  of  the  virtue  of  our  women  particularly  ; 
and  if  the  women  are  pure,  it  is  because  the  men  are 
so." 

"  Rose  cannot  love  that  demon,"  exclaimed  Bidi 
ane. 

"  No,  she  does  not  love  him,  but  she  understands 
what  you  will  understand  when  you  are  older,  —  the 
awful  sacredness  of  the  marriage  tie.  Think  of  one 
of  the  sentences  that  she  read  to  us  last  Sunday  from 
Thomas  a  Kempis  :  '  A  pure  heart  penetrates  heaven 
and  hell.'  She  has  been  in  a  hell  of  suffering  herself. 
I  think  when  in  it  she  wished  her  husband  were 
dead.  Her  charity  is  therefore  infinite  towards  him. 
Her  sins  of  thought  are  equal  in  her  chastened  mind 
to  his  sins  of  body." 

"  But  you  will  not  let  her  go  away  with  him  ?  " 


496  ROSE   A    CHARLTTTE. 

"  She  will  not  wish  to  go,  my  treasure.  She  talks  to 
him,  and  repent,  repent,  is,  I  am  sure,  the  burden  of 
her  cry.  You  do  not  understand  that  under  her 
gentleness  is  a  stern  resolve.  She  will  be  soft  and 
kind,  yet  she  would  die  rather  than  live  with  Char- 
litte  or  surrender  her  child  to  him." 

"But  he  may  wish  to  stay  here,"  faltered  Bidiane. 

"  He  will  not  stay  with  her,  cJieric.  She  is  no 
longer  a  girl,  but  a  woman.  She  is  not  resentful, 
yet  Charlitte  has  sinned  deeply  against  her,  and  she 
remembers,  —  and  now  I  must  return  to  her.  Char 
litte  has  little  delicacy  of  feeling,  and  may  stay  too 
long." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Agapit,  —  is  it  her  money  that 
he  is  after  ? " 

"  No,  little  one,  he  is  not  mercenary.  He  would 
not  take  money  from  a  woman.  He  also  would  not 
give  her  any  unless  she  begged  him  to  do  so.  I 
think  that  his  visit  is  a  mere  caprice  that,  however, 
if  humored,  would  degenerate  into  a  carrying  away  of 
Rose,  —  and  now  an  revoir" 

Bidiane,  in  her  excited,  overstrained  condition  of 
mind,  bestowed  one  of  her  infrequent  caresses  on 
him,  and  Agapit,  in  mingled  surprise  and  gratifica 
tion,  found  a  pair  of  loving  arms  flung  around  his 
neck,  and  heard  a  frantic  whisper  :  "  If  you  ever  do 
anything  bad,  I  shall  kill  you  ;  but  you  will  not,  for 
you  are  good." 


BIDIANE   RECEIVES  A    SHOCK.  497 

"Thank  you.  If  I  am  faithless  you  may  kill  me," 
and,  reluctantly  leaving  her,  he  strode  along  the  sum 
mit  of  the  slight  hill  on  which  the  house  stood,  until 
he  caught  sight  of  the  tableau  on  the  lawn. 

Charlitte  was  just  leaving  his  wife.  His  head  was 
hanging  on  his  breast ;  he  looked  ashamed  of  himself, 
and  in  haste  to  be  gone,  yet  he  paused  and  cast  an 
occasional  stealthy  and  regretful  glance  at  Rose,  who, 
with  a  face  aglow  with  angelic  forgiveness,  seemed 
to  be  bestowing  a  parting  benediction  on  him. 

The  next  time  that  he  lifted  his  head,  his  small, 
sharp  eyes  caught  sight  of  Agapit,  whereupon  he 
immediately  snatched  his  hand  from  Rose,  and 
hastily  began  to  descend  the  hill  towards  the  river. 

Rose  remained  standing,  and  silently  watched  him. 
She  did  not  look  at  Agapit,  — her  eyes  were  riveted 
on  her  husband.  Something  within  her  seemed  to 
cry  out  as  his  feet  carried  him  down  the  hill  to  the 
brink  of  the  inexorable  stream,  where  the  bones  of  so 
many  of  his  countrymen  lay. 

"Adieu,  my  husband,"  she  called,  suddenly  and 
pleadingly,  "thou  wilt  not  forget." 

Charlitte  paused  just  before  he  reached  the  bridge, 
and,  little  dreaming  that  his  feet  were  never  to  cross 
its  planks,  he  swept  a  glance  over  the  peaceful  Bay, 
the  waiting  boat,  and  the  beautiful  ship.  Then  he 
turned  and  waved  his  hand  to  his  wife,  and  for  one 
instant,  they  remembered  afterwards,  he  put  a  finger 


49^  KOSE   A    CHARLfTTE. 

on  his  breast,  where  lay  a  crucifix  that  she  had  just 
given  him. 

"  Adjhcn,  Rose,"  he  called,  loudly,  "I  will  re 
member."  At  the  same  minute,  however,  that  the 
smile  of  farewell  lighted  up  his  face,  an  oath  slipped 
to  his  lips,  and  he  stepped  back  from  the  bridge. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  STRANGER  GOES  AWAY  WITHOUT 
HER  CAPTAIN. 

"  Repentance  is  the  relinquishment  of  any  practice  from  the 
conviction  that  it  has  offended  God.  Sorrow,  fear,  and  anxiety 
are  properly  not  parts  but  adjuncts  of  repentance,  yet  they  are 
too  closely  connected  with  it  to  be  easily  separated." 

—  Rambler. 

CHARLITTE  did  not  plan  to  show  himself  at  all  in 
Sleeping  Water,  lie  possessed  a  toughened  con 
science  and  moral  fibre  calculated  to  stand  a  consid 
erably  heavy  strain,  yet  some  blind  instinct  warned 
him  that  he  had  better  seek  no  conversation  with  his 
friends  of  former  days. 

For  this  reason  he  had  avoided  the  corner  on  his 
way  to  Rose's  house,  but  he  had  not  been  able  to 
keep  secret  the  news  of  his  arrival.  Some  women  at 
the  windows  had  recognized  him,  and  a  few  loungers 
at  the  corner  had  strolled  down  to  his  boat,  and  had 
conversed  with  the  sailors,  who,  although  Norwegians, 
yet  knew  enough  English  to  tell  their  captain's  name, 
which,  according  to  a  custom  prevailing  among  Aca- 
diens,  was  simply  the  French  name  turned  into  Eng- 

499 


500  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

lish.  Charlitte  de  Foret  had  become  Charlitte 
Forrest. 

Emmanuel  de  la  Rive  was  terribly  excited.  He 
had  just  come  from  the  station  with  the  afternoon 
mail,  and,  on  hearing  that  Charlitte  was  alive,  and  had 
actually  arrived,  he  had  immediately  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  a  contingent  of  men,  who  proposed  to  go 
up  to  the  cottage  and  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  case. 
If  it  were  so,  —  and  it  must  be  so,  —  what  a  wonderful, 
what  an  extraordinary  occurrence  !  Sleeping  Water 
had  never  known  anything  like  this,  and  he  jabbered 
steadily  all  the  way  up  to  the  cottage. 

Charlitte  saw  them  coming,  —  this  crowd  of  old 
friends,  headed  by  the  mail-driver  in  the  red  jacket, 
and  he  looked  helplessly  up  at  Rose. 

"  Come  back,"  she  called  ;  "  come  and  receive  your 
friends  with  me." 

Charlitte,  however,  glanced  at  Agapit,  and  pre 
ferred  to  stay  where  he  was,  and  in  a  trice  Em 
manuel  and  the  other  men  and  boys  were  beside 
him,  grasping  his  hands,  vociferating  congratulations 
on  his  escape  from  death,  and  plying  him  with  in 
quiries  as  to  the  precise  quarter  of  the  globe  in 
which  the  last  few  years  of  his  existence  had  been 
passed. 

Charlitte,  unable  to  stave  off  the  questions  show 
ered  upon  him,  was  tortured  by  a  desire  to  yield  to 
his  rough  and  sailorlike  sense  of  humor,  and  enter- 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   STRANGER.  50! 

tain  himself  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  expense  of  his 
friends  by  regaling  them  with  his  monstrous  yarns  of 
shipwreck  and  escape  from  the  cannibal  islands. 

Something  restrained  him.  He  glanced  up  at 
Rose,  and  saw  that  she  had  lost  hope  of  his  return 
ing  to  her.  She  was  gliding  down  the  hill  towards 
him,  —  a  loving,  anxious,  guardian  angel. 

He  could  not  tell  lies  in  her  presence.  "  Come, 
boys,"  he  said,  with  coarse  good  nature.  "  Come  on 
to  my  ship,  I'll  take  you  all  aboard." 

Emmanuel,  in  a  perfect  intoxication  of  delight  and 
eager  curiosity,  crowded  close  to  Charlitte,  as  the 
throng  of  men  and  boys  turned  and  began  to  surge 
over  the  bridge,  and  the  hero  of  the  moment,  his 
attention  caught  by  the  bright  jacket,  singled  Em 
manuel  out  for  special  attention,  and  even  linked  his 
arm  in  his  as  they  went. 

Bidiane,  weary  of  her  long  stay  in  the  garden,  at 
that  minute  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house  on 
a  reconnoitring  expedition.  Her  brown  eyes  took 
in  the  whole  scene,  —  Rose  hurrying  down  the  hill, 
Agapit  standing  silently  on  it,  and  the  swarm  of  men 
surrounding  the  newcomer  like  happy  buzzing  bees, 
while  they  joyfully  escorted  him  away  from  the 
cottage. 

This  was  the  picture  for  an   instant  before  her, 

then  simultaneously  with  a  warning  cry  from  Agapit, 

—  "  The  bridge,  mon  Dieu !     Do  not  linger  on  it  ; 


5O2  ROSF.    A    CHARLITTE. 

you  are  a  strong  pressure!  "  —there  was  a  sudden 
crash,  a  brief  and  profound  silence,  then  a  great 
splashing,  accompanied  by  shouts  and  cries  of 
astonishment. 

The  slight  rustic  structure  had  given  way  under 
the  unusually  heavy  weight  imposed  upon  it,  and  a 
score  or  two  of  the  men  of  Sleeping  Water  were 
being  subjected  to  a  thorough  ducking. 

However,  they  were  all  used  to  the  water,  their 
lives  were  partly  passed  on  the  sea,  and  they  were 
all  accomplished  swimmers.  As  one  head  after  an 
other  came  bobbing  up  from  the  treacherous  river, 
it  was  greeted  with  cries  and  jeers  from  dripping 
figures  seated  on  the  grass,  or  crawling  over  the 
muddy  banks. 

Celina  ran  from  the  house,  and  Jovite  from  the 
stable,  both  shrieking  with  laughter.  Only  Agapit 
looked  grave,  and,  snatching  a  hammock  from  a  tree, 
he  ran  down  the  hill  to  the  place  where  Rose  stood 
with  clasped  hands. 

"Where  is  Charlitte  ? "  she  cried,  "and  Em 
manuel  ?  —  they  were  close  together ;  I  do  not  see 
them." 

A  sudden  hush  followed  her  words.  Every  man 
sprang  to  his  feet.  Emmanuel's  red  jacket  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen,  —  in  the  first  excitement  they 
had  not  missed  him,  —  neither  was  Charlitte  visible. 

They  must   be   still   at   the  bottom   of   the   river, 


THE  BEAUTIFUL   STRANGER.  503 

locked  in  a  friendly  embrace.  Rose's  wild  cry 
pierced  the  hearts  of  her  fellow  countrymen,  and 
in  an  instant  some  of  the  dripping  figures  were 
again  in  the  river. 

Agapit  was  one  of  the  most  expert  divers  present, 
and  he  at  once  took  off  his  coat  and  his  boots. 
Bidiane  threw  herself  upon  him,  but  he  pushed  her 
aside  and,  putting  his  hands  before  him,  plunged 
down  towards  the  exact  spot  where  he  had  last  seen 
Charlitte. 

The  girl,  in  wild  terror,  turned  to  Rose,  who  stood 
motionless,  her  lips   moving,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
black  river.     "  Ah,  God  !  there  is  no  bottom  to  it,  — 
Rose,  Rose,  call  him  back  !  " 

Rose  did  not  respond,  and  Bidiane  ran  frantically 
to  and  fro  on  the  bank.  The  muddy  water  was 
splashed  up  in  her  face,  there  was  a  constant  appear 
ance  of  heads,  and  disappearance  of  feet.  Her  lover 
would  be  suffocated  there  below,  he  stayed  so  long, 
—  and  in  her  despair  she  was  in  danger  of  slipping 
in  herself,  until  Rose  came  to  her  rescue  and  held 
her  firmly  by  her  dress. 

After  a  space  of  time,  that  seemed  interminably 
long,  but  that  in  reality  lasted  only  a  few  minutes, 
there  was  a  confused  disturbance  of  the  surface  of 
the  water  about  the  remains  of  the  wrecked  bridge. 
Then  two  or  three  arms  appeared,  —  a  muddy 
form  encased  in  a  besmeared  bright  jacket  was 


504  KOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

drawn  out,  and  willing  hands  on  the  bank  received 
it,  and  in  desperate  haste  made  attempts  at  resusci 
tation. 

"  Go,  Celina,  to  the  house,  —  heat  water  and  blan 
kets,"  said  Rose,  turning  her  deathly  pale  face  towards 
her  maid  ;  "  and  do  you,  Lionel  and  Sylvain,  kindly 
help  her.  Run,  Jovite,  and  telephone  for  a  doctor  - 
oh,  be  quick  !  Ah,  Charlitte,  Charlitte  !  "  and  with  a 
distracted  cry  she  fell  on  her  knees  beside  the  inani 
mate  drenched  form  laid  at  her  feet.  Tears  rained 
down  her  cheeks,  yet  she  rapidly  and  skilfully  super 
intended  the  efforts  made  for  restoration.  Her  hands 
assisted  in  raising  the  inert  back.  She  feverishly  lifted 
the  silent  tongue,  and  endeavored  to  force  air  to  the 
choked  lungs,  and  her  friends,  with  covert  pitying 
glances,  zealously  assisted  her. 

"There  is  no  hope,  Rose,"  said  Agapit,  at  last. 
"  You  are  wasting  your  strength,  and  keeping  these 
brave  fellows  in  their  wet  clothes." 

Her  face  grew  stony,  yet  she  managed  to  articu 
late,  "  But  I  have  heard  even  if  after  the  lapse  of 
hours,  — -  if  one  works  hard  — 

"There  is  no  hope,"  he  said,  again.  "We  found 
him  by  the  bank.  There  was  timber  above  him,  he 
was  suffocated  in  mud." 

She  looked  up  at  him  piteously,  then  she  again 
burst  into  tears,  and  threw  herself  across  the  body. 
"Go,  dear  friends,  — leave  me  alone  with  him.  Oh, 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   STRANGER.  505 

Charlitte,   Charlitte  !  —  that  I  should  have  lived  to 
see  this  day." 

"Emmanuel  is  also  dead,"  said  Agapit,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Emmanuel,  —  good,  kind  Emmanuel,  —  the  be 
loved  of  all  the  village  ;  not  so—  "  and  she  painfully 
lifted  her  head  and  stared  at  the  second  prostrate 
figure. 

The  men  were  all  standing  around  him  weeping. 
They  were  not  ashamed  of  their  tears,  - —  these  kind- 
hearted,  gentle  Acadiens.  Such  a  calamity  had 
seldom  befallen  their  village.  It  was  equal  to  the 
sad  wrecks  of  winter. 

Rose's  overwrought  brain  gave  way  as  she  gazed, 
and  she  fell  senseless  by  Charlitte's  dead  body. 

Agapit  carried  her  to  the  house,  and  laid  her  in 
her  bed  in  the  room  that  she  was  not  to  leave  for 
many  days. 

"This  is  an  awful  time,"  said  Celina,  sobbing 
bitterly,  and  addressing  the  mute  and  terrified 
Bidiane.  "  Let  us  pray  for  the  souls  of  those  poor 
men  who  died  without  the  last  sacraments." 

• "  Let  us  pray  rather  for  the  soul  of  one  who 
repented  on  his  death-bed,"  muttered  Agapit,  staring 
with  white  lips  at  the  men  who  were  carrying  the 
body  of  'Charlitte  into  one  of  the  lower  rooms  of 
the  house. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

AN    ACADIEN    FESTIVAL. 

"  Vive  Je"sus ! 

Vive  Je*sus ! 
Avec  la  croix,  son  cher  partage. 

Vive  Je"sus ! 
Dans  les  coeurs  de  tous  les  e"lus  ! 

Portons  la  croix. 

Sans  choix,  sans  ennui,  sans  murmure, 

Portons  la  croix ! 
Quoique  tres  ainere  et  tres  dure, 
Malgre  les  sens  et  la  nature, 

Portons  la  croix  !  " 

—  Acadien  Song. 

CHARLITTE  had  been  in  his  grave  for  nearly  two 
years.  He  slept  peacefully  in  the  little  green  cem 
etery  hard  by  the  white  church  where  a  slender, 
sorrowful  woman  came  twice  every  week  to  hear 
a  priest  repeat  masses  for  the  repose  of  his  soul. 

He  slept  on  and  gave  no  sign,  and  his  countrymen 
came  and  went  above  him,  reflecting  occasionally  on 
their  own  end,  but  mostly,  after  the  manner  of  all 

506 


AN  ACADIEN  FESTIVAL.  507 

men,  allowing  their  thoughts  to  linger  rather  on 
matters  pertaining  to  time  than  on  those  of  eternity. 

One  fifteenth  of  August  —  the  day  consecrated 
by  Acadiens  all  over  Canada  to  the  memory  of  their 
forefathers  —  had  come  and  gone,  and  another  had 
arrived. 

This  day  was  one  of  heavenly  peace  and  calm. 
The  sky  was  faintly,  exquisitely  blue,  and  so  placid 
was  the  Bay  that  the  occupants  of  the  boats  cross 
ing  from  Digby  Neck  to  some  of  the  churches  in 
Frenchtown  were  forced  to  take  in  their  sails,  and 
apply  themselves  to  their  oars. 

Since  early  morning  the  roads  of  the  parish  in 
which  Sleeping  Water  is  situated  had  been  black 
with  people,  and  now  at  ten  o'clock  some  two 
thousand  Acadiens  were  assembled  about  the  doors 
of  the  old  church  at  Pointe  a  1'Eglise. 

There  was  no  talking,  no  laughing.  In  unbroken 
silence  they  waited  for  the  sound  of  the  bell,  and 
when  it  came  they  flocked  into  the  church,  packing 
it  full,  and  overflowing  out  to  the  broad  flight  of 
steps,  where  they  knelt  in  rows  and  tried  to  obtain 
glimpses  over  each  other's  shoulders  of  the  blue  and 
white  decorations  inside,  and  of  the  altar  ablaze  with 
lights. 

The  priests  from  the  college  and  glebe-house, 
robed  in  handsome  vestments,  filed  out  from  the 
vestry,  and,  quietly  approaching  the  silken  banners 


508  ROSE   A    CHARL1TTE. 

standing  against  the  low  gallery,  handed  them  to 
representatives  of  different  societies  connected  with 
the  church. 

The  children  of  the  Guardian  Angel  received  the 
picture  of  their  patron  saint,  and,  gathering  around 
it,  fluttered  soberly  out  to  the  open  air  through  the 
narrow  lane  left  among  the  kneeling  worshippers. 

The  children  of  the  Society  of  Mary  followed 
them,  their  white-clad  and  veiled  figures  clustering 
about  the  pale,  pitying  Virgin  carried  by  two  of  their 
number.  A  banner  waving  beside  her  bore  the 
prayer,  "  Marie,  Priez  Pour  Nous"  (Mary,  pray  for 
us),  and,  as  if  responding  to  the  petition,  her  two 
hands  were  extended  in  blessing  over  them. 

After  the  troop  of  snowy  girls  walked  the  black 
sisters  in  big  bonnets  and  drooping  shawls,  and  the 
brown  sisters,  assistants  to  the  Kudists,  who  wore 
black  veils  with  white  flaps  against  their  pale  faces. 
Then  came  the  priests,  altar  boys,  and  all  the  congre 
gation.  Until  they  left  the  church  the  organ  played 
an  accompaniment  to  their  chanting.  On  the  steps 
a  young  deacon  put  a  cornet  to  his  lips,  and,  taking 
up  the  last  note  of  the  organ,  prolonged  it  into  a 
vigorous  leadership  of  the  singing  : 

Ave  maris  Stella, 

Dei  mater  alma, 
Atque  semper  virgo 

Felix  coeli  porta. 


AN  A  CAD  I  EN  FESTIVAL.  509 

As  the  congregation  sang,  they  crossed  the  road 
to  the  gates  of  the  college  grounds,  and  divided  into 
two  parts,  the  men,  with  heads  uncovered,  going  one 
side,  and  the  women  on  the  other. 

Above  the  gate-posts  waved  two  flags,  the  union 
jack  and  the  Acadien  national  flag,  —  a  French  tri 
color,  crossed  by  a  blue  stripe,  and  pierced  with  a 
yellow  star. 

Slowly  and  solemnly  the  long  array  of  men  and 
women  passed  by  the  glebe-house  and  the  white 
marble  tomb  of  the  good  Abbe,  whose  life  was  given 
to  the  Acadiens  of  the  Bay  Saint-Mary.  The  hymns 
sung  by  the  priests  at  the  head  of  the  procession 
floated  back  to  the  congregation  in  the  rear,  and  at 
the  moment  when  the  singing  was  beginning  to  die 
away  in  the  distance  and  the  procession  was  winding 
out  of  sight  behind  the  big  college,  two  strangers 
suddenly  appeared  on  the  scene. 

They  were  a  slender,  elegant  man  and  a  beautiful 
lad  of  a  clear,  healthy  pallor  of  skin.  The  man,  with 
a  look  of  grave,  quiet  happiness  on  his  handsome 
face,  stepped  from  the  carriage  in  which  they  were 
driving,  fastened  his  horse  to  a  near  fence,  and  threw 
a  longing  glance  after  the  disappearing  procession. 

"  If  we  hurry,  Narcisse,"  he  said,  "we  shall  be  able 
to  overtake  them." 

The  lad  at  once  placed  himself  beside  him,  and 
together  they  went  on  their  way  towards  the  gates. 


510  ROSF.    A    CHARLITTR. 

"  Do  you  remember  it  ?  "  asked  the  man,  softly,  as 
the  boy  lifted  his  hat  when  they  passed  by  the  door 
of  the  silent,  decorated  church. 

"  Yes,  perfectly,"  he  said,  with  a  sweet,  delicate 
intonation  of  voice.  "  It  seems  as  if  my  mother 
must  be  kneeling  there." 

Vesper's  brow  and  cheeks  immediately  became 
suffused  with  crimson.  "  She  is  probably  on  ahead. 
We  will  find  out.  If  she  is  not,  we  shall  drive  at 
once  to  Sleeping  Water." 

They  hurried  on  silently.  The  procession  was 
now  moving  through  another  gate,  this  one. opening 
on  the  point  of  land  where  are  the  ruins  of  the  first 
church  that  the  good  Abbe  built  on  the  Bay. 

Beside  its  crumbling  ruins  and  the  prostrate  altar- 
stones  a  new,  fresh  altar  had  been  put  up,  —  this  one 
for  temporary  use.  It  was  a  veritable  bower  of 
green  amid  which  bloomed  many  flowers,  the  fragile 
nurslings  of  the  sisters  in  the  adjacent  convent. 

Before  this  altar  the  priests  and  deacons  knelt  for 
an  instant  on  colored  rugs,  then,  while  the  people 
gathered  closely  around  them,  an  Acadien  Abbe  from 
the  neighboring  province  of  New  Brunswick  ascended 
the  steps  of  the  altar,  and,  standing  beside  the  em 
bowered  Virgin  mother,  special  patron  and  protect 
ress  of  his  race,  he  delivered  a  fervent  panegyric  on 
the  ancestors  of  the  men  and  women  before  him. 

While  he  recounted  the  struggles  and  trials, of  the 


AAT  ACADIEN  FESTIVAL.  511 

early  Acadiens,  many  of  his  hearers  wept  silently, 
but  when  this  second  good  Abbe  eloquently  exhorted 
them  not  to  linger  too  long  on  a  sad  past,  but  to 
gird  themselves  for  a  glorious  future,  to  be  con 
stant  to  their  race  and  to  their  religion,  their  faces 
cleared,  —  they  were  no  longer  a  prey  to  mournful 
recollections. 

Vesper,  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  closely 
accompanied  by  Narcisse,  moved  slowly,  nearer  and 
nearer  to  a  man  who  stood  with  his  face  half  hidden 
by  his  black  hat. 

It  was  Agapit,  and  at  Vesper's  touch  he  started 
slightly,  then,  for  he  would  not  speak  on  this  solemn 
occasion,  he  extended  a  hand  that  was  grasped  in  the 
firm  and  enduring  clasp  of  a  friendship  that  would 
not  again  be  broken. 

Vesper  would  never  forget  that,  amid  all  the  bustle 
and  confusion  succeeding  Charlitte's  death,  Agapit 
had   found   time   to   send   him   a    cable    message,  — 
"  Charlitte  is  dead." 

After  communicating  with  Agapit,  Vesper  drew 
the  boy  nearer  to  him,  and  fell  back  a  little.  He 
was  inexpressibly  moved.  A  few  years  ago  he 
would  have  called  this  "perverted  Christianity  — 
Mariolatry."  Now,  now  -  "  O  God  !  "  he  muttered, 
"  my  pure  saint,  she  has  genuine  piety,"  and  under 
wet  lashes  he  stole  a  glance  at  one  form,  preemi 
nently  beautiful  among  the  group  of  straight  and 


5T2  XOSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

slim  young  Acadien  women  beyond  him.  She  was 
there,  —  his  heart's  delight,  his  treasure.  She  was 
his.  The  holy,  rapt  expression  would  give  place  to 
one  more  earthly,  more  self-conscious.  He  would  not 
surrender  her  to  heaven  just  yet, — but  still,  would 
it  not  be  heaven  on  earth  to  be  united  to  her  ? 

She  did  not  know  that  he  was  near.  In  complete 
oblivion  of  her  surroundings  she  followed  the  singing 
of  the  Tantum  Ergo.  When  the  benediction  was 
over,  she  lifted  her  bowed  head,  her  eyes  turned 
once  towards  the  cemetery.  She  was  thinking  of 
Charlitte. 

The  sensitive  Narcisse  trembled.  The  excess  of 
melancholy  and  sentimental  feeling  about  him  pene 
trated  to  his  soul,  and  Vesper  withdrew  with  him  to 
the  edge  of  the  crowd.  Then  before  the  procession 
re-formed  to  march  back  to  the  church,  they  took  up 
their  station  by  the  college  gates. 

All  the  Acadiens  saw  him  there  as  they  approached, 
—  all  but  Rose. 

She  only  raised  her  eyes  from  her  prayer-book  to 
fix  them  on  the  sky.  She  alone  of  the  women  seemed 
to  be  so  wholly  absorbed  in  a  religious  fervor  that 
she  did  not  know  where  she  was  going  nor  what  she 
was  doing. 

Some  of  the  Acadiens  looked  doubtfully  at  Vesper. 
Since  the  death  of  her  husband,  whose  treachery 
towards  her  had  in  some  way  been  discovered,  she 


"THROWING    HER    ARM    AROUND    THE    NECK    OF    HER 
RECOVERED    CHILD." 


AN  ACADIEN  FESl^IVAL.  513 

had  been  regarded  more  than  ever  as  a  saint,  —  as 
one  set  apart  for  prayer  and  meditation  almost  as 
much  as  if  she  had  been  consecrated  to  them. 
Would  she  give  up  her  saintly  life  for  marriage 
with  the  Englishman  ? 

Would  she  do  it  ?  Surely  this  holy  hour  was  the 
wrong  time  to  ask  her,  and  they  waited  breathlessly 
until  they  reached  the  gates  where  the  procession 
was  to  break  up.  There  she  discovered  Vesper.  In 
the  face  of  all  the  congregation  he  had  stepped  up 
and  was  holding  out  his  hand  to  her. 

She  did  not  hesitate  an  instant.  She  did  not  even 
seem  to  be  surprised.  An  expression  of  joyful  surren^ 
der  sprang  to  her  face  ;  in  silent,  solemn  ecstasy  she 
took  her  lover's  hand,  and,  throwing  her  arm  around 
the  neck  of  her  recovered  child,  she  started  with  them 
on  the  long  road  down  the  Bay. 

All  this  happened  a  few  years  ago,  but  the  story  is 
yet  going  on.  If  you  come  from  Boston  to-day,  and 
take  your  wheel  or  carriage  at  Yarmouth,  —  for  the 
strong  winds  blow  one  up  and  not  down  the  Bay,  — 
you  will,  after  passing  through  Salmon  River,  Cheti- 
camp,  Meteghan,  Saulnierville,  and  other  places,  come 
to  the  swinging  sign  of  the  Sleeping  Water  Inn. 

There,  if  you  stop,  you  will  be  taken  good  care  of 
by  Claudine  and  Mirabelle  Marie,  —  who  is  really  a 
vastly  improved  woman. 


5  14  ROSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

Perhaps  among  all  the  two  hundred  thousand 
Acadiens  scattered  throughout  the  Maritime  Prov 
inces  of  Canada  there  is  not  a  more  interesting  inn 
than  that  of  Sleeping  Water.  They  will  give  you 
good  meals  and  keep  your  room  tidy,  and  they  will 
also  show  you  —  if  you  are  really  interested  in  the 
Acadien  French  —  a  pretty  cottage  in  the  form  of  a 
horseshoe  that  was  moved  bodily  away  from  the 
wicked  Sleeping  Water  River  and  placed  in  a  flat 
green  field  by  the  shore.  To  it,  you  will  be  informed, 
comes  every  year  a  family  from  Boston,  consisting  of 
an  Englishman  and  his  wife,  his  mother  and  two 
children.  They  will  describe  the  family  to  you,  or 
perhaps,  if  it  is  summer-time,  you  may  see  the  Eng 
lishman  himself,  riding  a  tall  bay  horse  and  looking 
affectionately  at  a  beautiful  lad  who  accompanies 
him  on  a  glossy  black  steed  rejoicing  in  the  name 
of  Toochune. 

The  Englishman  is  a  man  of  wealth  and  many 
schemes.  He  has  organized  a  company  for  the  plant 
ing  and  cultivation  of  trees  along  the  shore  of  the 
charming,  but  certainly  wind-swept  Bay.  He  also  is 
busy  now  surveying  the  coast  for  the  carrying  out 
of  his  long-cherished  plan  of  an  electric  railway 
running  along  the  shore. 

He  will  yet  have  it,  the  Acadiens  say,  but  in  the 
meantime  he  amuses  himself  by  viewing  the  land 
and  interviewing  the  people,  and  when  he  is  weary 


AN  ACADIEN  FESTIVAL.  515 

he  rides  home  to  the  cottage  where  his  pale,  fragile 
mother  is  looking  eagerly  for  her  adopted,  idolized 
grandchild  Narcisse,  and  where  his  wife  sits  by  the 
window  and  waits  for  him. 

As  she  waits  she  often  smiles  and  gazes  down  at 
her  lap  where  lies  a  tiny  creature,  — a  little  girl  whose 
eyes  and  mouth  are  her  own,  but  whose  hair  is  the 
hair  of  Vesper. 

Perhaps  you  will  go  to  Sleeping  Water  by  the 
train.  If  so,  do  not  look  out  for  the  red  coat  which 
always  used  to  be  the  distinguishing  mark  of  this 
place,  and  do  not  mention  Emmanuel's  name  to  the 
woman  who  keeps  the  station,  nor  to  her  husband, 
for  they  were  very  fond  of  him,  and  if  you  speak  of 
the  red-jacketed  mail-man  they  will  turn  aside  to 
hide  their  tears. 

Nannichette  and  her  husband  have  come  out  of 
the  woods  and  live  by  the  shore.  Mirabelle  Marie 
has  persuaded  the  former  to  go  to  mass  with  her. 
The  Indian  in  secret  delight  says  nothing,  but  occa 
sionally  he  utters  a  happy  grunt. 

Bidiane  and  her  husband  live  in  Weymouth.  Their 
menage  is  small  and  unambitious  as  yet,  in  order  that 
they  may  do  great  things  in  the  future,  Bidiane  says. 
She  is  absolutely  charming  when  she  ties  a  handker 
chief  on  her  head  and  sweeps  out  her  rooms  ;  and 
sometimes  she  cooks. 

Often  at  such  times  she  scampers  across  a  yard 


516  K OSE   A    CHARLITTE. 

that  separates  her  from  her  husband's  office,  and, 
after  looking  in  his  window  to  make  sure  that  he  is 
alone,  she  flies  in,  startles  and  half  suffocates  him 
by  throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  stuffing 
in  his  mouth  or  his  pocket  some  new  and  delectable 
dainty  known  only  to  herself  and  the  cook-book. 

She  is  very  happy,  and  turns  with  delight  from 
her  winter  visits  to  Halifax,  where,  however,  she 
manages  to  enjoy  herself  hugely,  to  her  summer  on 
the  Bay,  when  she  can  enjoy  the  most  congenial 
society  in  the  world  to  her  and  to  her  husband,  — 
that  of  Vesper  Nimmo  and  his  wife  Rose. 


THE    END. 


SELECTIONS  FROM 

L.    C.   PAGE  AND   COMPANY'S 

LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION. 


Selections  from 

L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 

List  of  New  Fiction. 


An  Enemy  to  the  King. 

From   the    Recently    Discovered    Memoirs   of   the 
Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.     By   ROBERT    NEILSON    STE 
PHENS.     Illustrated  by   H.    De   M.    Young, 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth    ....         $1.25 

An  historical  romance  of  the  sixteenth  century,  describing 
the  adventures  of  a  young  French  nobleman  at  the  Court  of 
Henry  IV.,  and  on  the  field  with  Henry  of  Navarre. 

The  Continental  Dragoon. 

A  Romance  of  Philipse  Manor  House,  in  1778. 
By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "  An  En 
emy  to  the  King."  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards, 
i  vol.,  library  i2mo,  cloth  .  .  .  $1.50 

A  stirring  romance  of  the  Revolution,  the  scene  being  laid  in 
and  around  the  old  Philipse  Manor  House,  near  Yonkers,  which 
at  the  time  of  the  story  was  the  central  point  of  the  so-called 
"  neutral  territory  "  between  the  two  armies. 

Muriella ;  or,  Le  Selve. 

By  OUIDA.  Illustrated  by  M.  B.  Prendergast. 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth  .  .  .  $1.25 

This  is  the  latest  work  from  the  pen  of  the  brilliant  author  of 
"  Under  Two  Flags,"  "  Moths,"  etc.,  etc.  It  is  the  story  of  the 
love  and  sacrifice  of  a  young  peasant  girl,  told  in  the  absorbing 
style  peculiar  to  the  author. 


LIST    OF    NEW    FICTION. 


The  Road  to  Paris. 

By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "An 
Enemy  to  the  King,"  "  The  Continental  Dragoon," 
etc.  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards.  (In  press.) 
i  vol.,  library  i2mo,  cloth  ....  $1.5° 

An  historical  romance,  being  an  account  of  the  life  of  an 
American  gentleman  adventurer  of  Jacobite  ancestry,  whose 
family  early  settled  in  the  colony  of  Pennsylvania.  The  scene 
shifts  from  the  unsettled  forests  of  the  then  West  to  Philadel 
phia,  New  York,  London,  Paris,  and,  in  fact,  wherever  a  love  of 
adventure  and  a  roving  fancy  can  lead  a  soldier  of  fortune. 
The  story  is  written  in  Mr.  Stephens's  best  style,  and  is  of 
absorbing  interest. 

Rose  a  Charlitte. 

An  Acadien  Romance.     By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS, 
author  of  "  Beautiful  Joe,"   etc.      Illustrated  by   H. 
De  M.  Young, 
i  vol.,  library  i  2mo,  cloth  ....         $1.50 

In  this  novel,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  principally  in  the  land 
of  Evangeline,  Marshall  Saunders  has  made  a  departure  from 
the  style  of  her  earlier  successes.  The  historical  and  descrip 
tive  setting  of  the  novel  is  accurate,  the  plot  is  well  conceived 
and  executed,  the  characters  are  drawn  with  a  firm  and  delight 
ful  touch,  and  the  fortunes  of  the  heroine,  Rose  a  Charlitte,  a 
descendant  of  an  old  Acadien  family,  will  be  followed  with 
eagerness  by  the  author's  host  of  admirers. 

Bobbie  McDuff. 

By  CLINTON  Ross,  author  of  "  The  Scarlet  Coat," 
"Zuleika,"  etc.  Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 
r  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth  ....  $1.00 

Clinton  Ross  is  well  known  as  one  of  the  most  promising  of 
recent  American  writers  of  fiction,  and  in  the  description  of  the 
adventures  of  his  latest  hero,  Bobbie  McDuff,  he  has  repeated 
his  earlier  successes.  Mr.  Ross  has  made  good  use  of  the 
wealth  of  material  at  his  command.  New  York  furnishes  him 
the  hero,  sunny  Italy  a  heroine,  grim  Russia  the  villain  of  the 
story,  while  the  requirements  of  the  exciting  plot  shift  the  scene 
from  Paris  to  New  York,  and  back  again  to  a  remote,  almost 
feudal  villa  on  the  southern  coast  of  Italy. 


4  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 

In  Kings'  Houses. 

A   Romance  of  the    Reign   of   Queen   Anne.     By 
JULIA  C.  R.   DORR,  author  of  "  A  Cathedral  Pilgrim 
age,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill, 
i  vol.,  library  i2mo,  cloth  ....         $1.50 

Mrs.  Dorr's  poems  and  travel  sketches  have  earned  for  her  a 
distinct  place  in  American  literature,  and  her  romance,  "  In 
Kings'  Houses,"  is  written  with  all  the  charm  of  her  earlier 
works.  The  story  deals  with  one  of  the  most  romantic  epi 
sodes  in  English  history.  Queen  Anne,  the  last  of  the  reigning 
Stuarts,  is  described  with  a  strong,  yet  sympathetic  touch,  and 
the  young  Duke  of  Gloster,  the  "little  lady,"  and  the  hero  of 
the  tale,  Robin  Sandys,  are  delightful  characterizations. 

Sons  of  Adversity. 

A  Romance   of   Queen   Elizabeth's    Time.     By  L. 
COPE   CONFORD,  author  of   "  Captain   Jacobus,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy, 
i  vol.,  library  121110,  cloth  ....         $1.25 

A  tale  of  adventure  on  land  and  sea  at  the  time  when  Prot 
estant  England  and  Catholic  Spain  were  struggling  for  naval 
supremacy.  Spanish  conspiracies  against  the  peace  of  good 
Queen  Bess,  a  vivid  description  of  the  raise  of  the  Spanish 
siege  of  Leyden  by  the  combined  Dutch  and  English  forces, 
sea  fights,  the  recovery  of  stolen  treasure,  are  all  skilfully  woven 
elements  in  a  plot  of  unusual  strength. 

The  Count  of  Nideck. 

From  the  French  of  Frckman-Chatrian,  translated 
and    adapted    by    RALPH    BROWNING    FISKE.     Illus 
trated  by  Victor   A.    Searles. 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth   ....         $1.25 

A  romance  of  the  Black  Forest,  woven  around  the  mysterious 
legend  of  the  Wehr  Wolf.  The  plot  has  to  do  with  the  later 
German  feudal  times,  is  brisk  in  action,  and  moves  spiritedly 
from  start  to  finish.  Mr.  Fiske  deserves  a  great  deal  of  credit 
for  the  excellence  of  his  work.  No  more  interesting  roman-  e 
has  appeared  recently. 


LIST    OF    NEW    FICTION. 


The  Making  of  a  Saint. 

By  W.  SOMERSET  MAUGHAM.     Illustrated  by  Gil 
bert  James, 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth  .         .         .         .         $1.50 

"  The  Making  of  a  Saint  "  is  a  romance  of  Mediaeval  Italy,  the 
scene  being  laid  in  the  I5th  century.  It  relates  the  life  of  a 
young  leader  of  Free  Companions  who,  at  the  close  of  one  of 
the  many  petty  Italian  wars,  returns  to  his  native  city.  There 
he  becomes  involved  in  its  politics,  intrigues,  and  feuds,  and 
finally  joins  an  uprising  of  the  townspeople  against  their  lord. 
None  can  resent  the  frankness  and  apparent  brutality  of  the 
scenes  through  which  the  hero  and  his  companions  of  both 
sexes  are  made  to  pass,  and  many  will  yield  ungrudging  praise 
to  the  author's  vital  handling  of  the  truth.  In  the  characters 
are  mirrored  the  life  of  the  Italy  of  their  day.  The  book 'will 
confirm  Mr.  Maugham's  reputation  as  a  strong  and  original 
writer. 


Omar  the  Tentmaker. 

A  Romance  of  Old  Persia.     By  NATHAN  HASKELL 
DOLE.     Illustrated.     (In  press.) 
i  vol.,  library  i2ino,  cloth   ....         $1.50 

Mr.  Dole's  study  of  Persian  literature  and  history  admirably 
equips  him  to  enter  into  the  life  and  spirit  of  the  time  of  the 
romance,  and  the  hosts  of  admirers  of  the  inimitable  quatrains 
of  Omar  Khayyam,  made  famous  by  Fitzgerald,  will  be  deeply 
interested  in  a  tale  based  on  authentic  facts  in  the  career  of  the 
famous  Persian  poet.  The  three  chief  characters  are  Omar 
Khayyam,  Nizam-ul-Mulk,  the  generous  and  high-minded  Vizier 
of  the  Tartar  Sultan  Malik  Shah  of  Mero,  and  Hassan  ibu 
Sabbah,  the  ambitious  and  revengeful  founder  of  the  sect  of 
the  Assassins.  The  scene  is  laid  partly  at  Naishapur,  in  the 
Province  of  Khorasan,  which  about  the  period  of  the  First 
Crusade  was  at  its  acme  of  civilization  and  refinement,  and 
partly  in  the  mountain  fortress  of  Alamut,  south  of  the  Cas 
pian  Sea,  where  the  Ismailians  under  Hassan  established  them 
selves  towards  the  close  of  the  nth  century.  Human  nature  is 
always  the  same,  and  the  passions  of  love  and  ambition,  of 
religion  and  fanaticism,  of  friendship  and  jealousy,  are  admira 
bly  contrasted  in  the  fortunes  of  these  three  able  and  remark 
able  characters  as  well  as  in  those  of  the  minor  personages  of 
the  story. 


L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 


Captain  Fracasse. 

A  new  translation  from  the  French  of  Gotier.     Il 
lustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
i  vol.,  library  121110,  cloth  ....         $1.25 

This  famous  romance  has  been  out  of  print  for  some  time, 
and  a  new  translation  is  sure  to  appeal  to  its  many  admirers, 
who  have  never  yet  had  any  edition  worthy  of  the  story. 

The  Rejuvenation  of  Hiss  Semaphore. 

A  farcical  novel.     By  HAL  GODFREY.     Illustrated 
by  Etheldred  B.  Barry, 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth  ....         $1.25 

A  fanciful,  laughable  tale  of  two  maiden  sisters  of  uncertain 
age  who  are  induced,  by  their  natural  longing  for  a  return  to 
youth  and  its  blessings,  to  pay  a  large  sum  for  a  mystical  water 
which  possesses  the  value  of  setting  backwards  the  hands  of 
time.  No  more  delightfully  fresh  and  original  book  has  ap 
peared  since  "  Vice  Versa  "  charmed  an  amused  world.  It  is 
well  written,  drawn  to  the  life,  and  full  of  the  most  enjoy 
able  humor. 

Midst  the  Wild  Carpathians. 

By  MAURUS  JOKAI,  author  of  "  Black  Diamonds," 
"The  Lion   of  Janina,"  etc.     Authorized  translation 
by  R.  Nisbet  Bain.    Illustrated, 
i  vol.,  library  lamo,  cloth  ....         $1.25 

A  thrilling,  historical,  Hungarian  novel,  in  which  the  extraor 
dinary  dramatic  and  descriptive  powers  of  the  great  Magyar 
writer  have  full  play.  As  a  picture  of  feudal  life  in  Hungary  it 
has  never  been  surpassed  for  fidelity  and  vividness.  The  trans 
lation  is  exceedingly  well  done. 

The  Golden  Dog. 

A  Romance  of  Quebec.  By  WILLIAM  KIRBY.  New 
authorized  edition.  Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy, 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth  ....  $1.25 

A  powerful  romance  of  love,  intrigue,  and  adventure  in  the 
time  of  Louis  XV.  and  Mme.  de  Pompadour,  when  the  French 
colonies  were  making  their  great  struggle  to,\retain  for  an  un 
grateful  court  the  fairest  jewels  in  the  colonial  diadem  of 
France. 


LIST    OF    NEW    FICTION. 


Bijli  the  Dancer. 

By  JAMES  BLYTHK  PATTON.     Illustrated  by  Horace 
Van  Rinth. 
i  vol.,  library  i2rno,  cloth  ....         $1.50 

A  novel  of  Modern  India.  The  fortunes  of  the  heroine, 
an  Indian  Naucht  girl,  are  told  with  a  vigor,  pathos,  and  a 
wealth  of  poetic  sympathy  that  makes  the  book  admirable  from 
first  to  last. 

"To  Arms!" 

Being  Some  Passages  from  the  Early  Life  of  Allan 
Oliphant,  Chirurgeon,  Written  by  Himself,  and  now 
Set  Forth  for  the  First  Time.     By  ANDREW  BALFOUR. 
Illustrated, 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth  ....         $1.50 

A  romance  dealing  with  an  interesting  phase  of  Scottish  and 
English  history,  the  Jacobite  Insurrection  of  1715,  which  will 
appeal  strongly  to  the  great  number  of  admirers  of  historical 
fiction.  The  story  is  splendidly  told,  the  magic  circle  which 
the  author  draws  about  the  reader  compelling  a  complete 
forgetfulness  of  prosaic  nineteenth  century  life. 

Mere  Folly. 

A  novel.    By  MARIA  LOUISE  POOLE,  author  of  "  In  a 
Dike  Shanty,"  etc.     Illustrated.     (In  press.) 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth  ....         $1.25 

An  extremely  well-written  story  of  modern  life.  The  interest 
centres  in  the  development  of  the  character  of  the  heroine,  a 
New  England  girl,  whose  high-strung  temperament  is  in  con 
stant  revolt  against  the  confining  limitations  of  nineteenth 
century  surroundings.  The  reader's  interest  is  held  to  the  end, 
and  the  book  will  take  high  rank  among  American  psychologi 
cal  novels. 

A      Hypocritical     Romance     and    other 
stories. 

By  CAROLINE  TICKNOR.  Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Ken 
nedy,  i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth  .  .  $1.00 

Miss  Ticknor,  well  known  as  one  of  the  most  promising  of 
the  younger  school  of  American  writers,  has  never  done  better 
work  than  in  the  majority  of  these  clever  stories,  written  in  a 
delightful  comedy  vein. 


8  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 

Cross  Trails. 

By  VICTOR  WAITE.     Illustrated, 
i  vol.,  library  12  mo,  cloth  ....         $1.50 

A  Spanish-American  novel  of  unusual  interest,  a  brilliant, 
dashing,  and  stirring  story,  teeming  with  humanity  and  life. 
Mr.  Waite  is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the  strength  with  which 
he  has  drawn  his  characters. 

A  Mad  Madonna  and  other  stories. 

By  L.  CLARKSON  WHITELOCK,  with  eight  half-tone 
illustrations,  i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth  .  $1.00 

A  half  dozen  remarkable  psychological  stories,  delicate  in 
color  and  conception.  Each  of  the  six  has  a  touch  of  the  super 
natural,  a  quick  suggestion,  a  vivid  intensity,  and  a  dreamy 
realism  that  is  matchless  in  its  forceful  execution. 

On  the  Point. 

A  Summer  Idyl.     By  NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE,  au 
thor  of  "  Not  Angels    Quite,"  with   dainty  half-tone 
illustrations  as  chapter  headings. 
i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth      ....         $1.00 

A  bright  and  clever  story  of  a  summer  on  the  coast  of  Maine, 
fresh,  breezy,  and  readable  from  the  first  to  the  last  page. 
The  narrative  describes  the  summer  outing  of  a  Mr.  Merrithert' 
and  his  family.  The  characters  are  all  honest,  pleasant  people, 
whom  we  are  glad  to  know.  We  part  from  them  with  the 
same  regret  with  which  we  leave  a  congenial  party  of  friends. 

Cavalleria    Rusticana;    or,    Under    the 
Shadow  of  Etna. 

Translated  from  the  Italian  of  Giovanni  Verga,  by 
NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE.  Illustrated  by  Etheldred 
B.  Barry,  i  vol.,  i6mo,  cloth  .  .  .  $0.50 

Giovanni  Verga  stands  at  present  as  unquestionably  the 
most  prominent  of  the  Italian  novelists.  His  supremacy  in 
the  domain  of  the  short  story  and  in  the  wider  range  of  the 
romance  is  recognized  both  at  home  and  abroad.  The  present 
volume  contains  a  selection  from  the  most  dramatic  and  char 
acteristic  of  his  Sicilian  tales.  Verga  is  himself  a  native  of 
Sicily,  and  his  knowledge  of  that  wonderful  country,  with  its 
poetic  and  yet  superstitious  peasantry,  is  absolute.  Such 
pathos,  humor,  variety,  and  dramatic  quality  are  rarely  met 
in  a  single  volume. 


